Reconstruction
by NinjaWhisper
Summary: (Twice Upon a Time Future Spin-off) It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then HE came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with- their family.
1. Chapter 1

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

AN- I meant to write this later on when Trunks returned home in Twice Upon a Time, but inspiration struck, so here you go.

You can read this alone without Twice Upon a Time. The only thing you need to know is that Future Trunks met a more mature and open Vegeta who time travelled as well (after he'd become more of a family-man). This Vegeta promised to wish upon the Namekian dragon balls for Future Trunks' father (and other Z-fighters besides Goku) to be resurrected.

**Chapter 1**

The world at first twisted and turned, and Bulma held on tight. She never expected it to break and fall. One by one, crack by crack, everything she knew began to crumble. Goku. Piccolo. Vegeta. Yamcha. Tien. Krillin. Gone.

When she was young and innocent death was just a temporary state. A passing period that would eventually end. It was something that could be rectified by seven magic balls with stars. Now it was a harsh, dark reality, which she had no other choice but to face. Without Piccolo and Kami, and thus the guardian of Earth, death was final.

Lost. All lost. Everything that gave her hope. Even Vegeta. Her strong prince, who swore to become the best warrior in the universe, had fallen so easily. He'd been rude, cold, and distant. Never had he promised to stay. His presence moved in and out of her life, coming and going, venturing into space. . . but always coming back at some point. For sex. Still, the contact, _any_ contact, gave her hope.

The news crushed that hope from the inside out. She'd fallen to her knees at Gohan's confession. She prayed to a guardian that was long gone. Her body shook, retched, and heaved. It battled against truth, throwing up in the corner of the dark room at Capsule Corp with sticky yellow goop devoid of substance. When she came to, she dismantled the Gravity Chamber. More like destroyed it in a rage.

The time rich with attachment and connection was over. There was nothing left.

And then a baby cried in the background. He hollered and begged, with desperation. _Come back. Don't forget about me, I am here_, the call said. She followed it up the stairs and scooped him up, latching on. He was all she had. The only thing.

A new Bulma was born that night as she lay in the blackness, Trunks pulled in tight against her chest. She did not sleep, but stared into the shadows, the void. A decision was made. Without hope there was only the present. Without anyone to grab onto for strength, she must be the strong one. She wrapped the blanket around herself and her son, determined to block out the cold for as long as possible.

So, life continued, one day at a time. When it became too dangerous and the androids invaded West City, Bulma took Trunks and left WST 3338926. It wasn't that hard. She'd said her goodbyes and Capsule Corp was only a structure. The essence had tumbled years ago.

They made their home in a small house away from people. It was modest compared to the lavish corporation she left. The thought struck her, how shallow and concerned over petty objects she'd been. What was really important was the lavender-haired boy who ran around and played with toys made out of scrap.

Bulma filled her days with simple tasks. She cooked and cleaned, and set aside outlandish ideas of inventions and advancement. It was hard to create when everything broke.

The unbearable fate of Gohan tipped her balance. His death was unlike the others. It wasn't only full of loss and sadness, but anger and guilt. She just couldn't accept loss anymore. If they stood back and watched, the entire planet would be destroyed. She reawakened her mind, activating it, calling forth ideas she'd buried. First, she thought of a space ship. She ventured off to hunt for materials, but ended up disappointed. There weren't enough. The androids decimated the planet in explosions and chaos. Little remained.

She walked amongst the ruin and plan B formed in her mind. Something similar to a space ship, but not. Something constructed differently. Something just as useful, but in another way. Something that created hope. Any hope was better than none, even if it was for someone else.

The air was hot, the sun low in the sky, casting distant colors across the horizon. She took in a deep breath, feeling better than in a long time. The strength that she'd created had been an outward shell, something she could hide in, but now she finally began to sense the strength of mind return.

She rummaged through buildings and piles of debris. Old factories were her best bet. She filled her hover car with everything that would fit. She'd need to make several trips, and visit other cities to get everything she required. She turned and rubbed her hands together, dirt sliding off. She wiped the back of her right palm over her tired, sweaty forehead. She was about to get into the car when she stopped and shivered, obviously not from the temperature. It was like something brushed against her, but not only physically- mentally as well.

It was familiar, a soft echo from the past. Something not forgotten, but distant. She leaned against the white car and tried to clear her head. She'd been out in the heat too long. After a few moments, she climbed into the car and took off.

The experience wouldn't leave her. She ended up returning with longing, desire for it to return. And it did.

The certainty came over her that this was where he'd died. It was something deep down, an intuition. A knowing. It washed over her and she remembered something he'd said once about Saiyan bonding. _A Saiyan bond can reach beyond space. I'm not telling you this to get all sentimental, just saying we may have to deal with the consequences of our . . . coupling. _

He was never one for fancy words. And he didn't use any now.

"Vegeta?" she whispered.

The energy swam around her, through her. She shrank down and cried, digging her nails into the dirt. Her heart ached and she wondered if that too might shatter. She wanted to wrap herself up in this presence, ghost (dare she use that term?), but also wished for him to move on. There was nothing here for him. She couldn't offer anything, and he couldn't give her anything in return.

She feared he'd follow her home, haunt her. Part of her craved it. No, no, it wasn't right. This wasn't where he belonged. It would be too painful, for both of them.

"You have to leave, go on. I need to move on. Y-You're dead, Vegeta. You died a long time ago. Please, leave. I love you. So, leave before I break even more."

Like an exhale, the presence fell away. It left her in stillness. Silent, unspoken emotions consumed her. She wept in defeat, wondering why she remained in a forgotten and empty realm while everyone else left, and why she'd let this last tie that remained go. Because she loved him and it wasn't right. His place wasn't here, it was to the Otherworld, a place she didn't belong.

Hers was here. In the middle of nowhere.

Timeless, Vegeta roamed. He wandered, confused, unsure, and unconscious. The remnants of unrequited vengeance surrounded him. He floated on the outskirts of Earth and the Otherworld, passing, translucent. He hadn't known he'd died. All he knew was that day, and the fact that he never got to play out the end, where he won.

But then she'd shown up. Her presence tugged at him, her soul larger than the unfulfilled vengeance and depleted pride. He hugged her as best he could. Not good enough. More. He needed her, inside and out.

The truth hit him sharp and cutting. "You have to leave, go on. I need to move on. Y-You're dead, Vegeta. You died a long time ago. Please, leave. I love you. So, leave before I break even more."

Dead. The information seeped in and he understood. He'd been seeking something he could never obtain. The fight was over. He'd never win. And Bulma. . . she was far away, in a place he couldn't reach. His presence would only leave her unsatisfied and lonely.

With that, he made a decision. To go. He knew what awaited him. He'd always been hell-bound. But any torture or terror was worse than staying here and seeing her, un-touching, unable to cross the veil.

He loved her, but she'd never know.

He left without any ability to say goodbye.

AN- I hadn't planned on having Vegeta admit loving Bulma, but I felt compelled to have him say it- just to himself. I think I was getting at that he is a spirit, and all walls fall away when you don't have a body. He has no reason to lie or hide things as a ghost. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. Chapter 2

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

AN- So, I planned out most of this story so that it will flow with Twice Upon a Time. These stories are going to crossover somewhat, which I did not originally anticipate. If a chapter goes along with the other story I will note it. Also, if you want fluffy B/V like the other story, be prepared for it to take a while for this Vegeta to thaw. I'm only trying to be realistic given their development.

**Chapter 2**

There was a polite knock on the door. Bulma glanced up from chopping tomatoes and onions for her tossed salad. They never received visitors. No one knew their address except Chi-Chi, which meant it had to be her. Bulma's heart sped up. She hoped it was the other woman because they were too far away from the city for anyone else to venture by. She set the paring knife down and paused, a little scared to go to the door. Of course androids wouldn't tap lightly on doors, instead blowing things up on entry, but there was still a feeling of unknown dread. Not even Chi-Chi came around anymore, having fallen into practically a vegetative depression in which her father had to force feed her. She wished Trunks was home just in case she needed protection from whoever was on the front porch.

Another knock came, a little more insistent, but still rather civil. She moved slowly to the entrance and her right hand hovered over the deadbolt. "Who is it?"

A few seconds ticked. "B-Bulma, it's me. . . er, us, actually."

Her legs shook and her hand traveled up to her mouth. A heavy sob shot through her and her vision blurred. She leaned against the door. The voice was familiar, but her brain told her it couldn't be real. There weren't dragon balls to bring people back from the dead. So, it had to be a trick or something.

"Er, Bulma . . .?"

Her voice came out squeaky. "How do I know you are who you say you are?"

There was the sound of shifted feet on the other end. "Um, guys, maybe this was a bad idea? I don't think she believes it is us. Why do I always have to be the speaker?"

"Of course she is hesitant. You don't know what the world is like; you have to be careful now."

Gohan? Bulma shut her eyes. It was becoming harder not to fling the door open.

"Tell me something only you would know," Bulma said, straightening.

"This is getting annoying. I should have gone to the lookout straight away," someone that sounded like Piccolo said.

"Let me have a go," a Yamcha voice said. "Hey there, Bulma, remember that night when you brought that tent capsule only made for two, and we went out into the woods? Then there was this spring we went to swim in and you found out I didn't wear underwear."

No! That was the night that she lost her virginity. He wouldn't!

"If you don't open the door I'll tell about how we-"

Bulma flung open the door and pointed a finger in Yamcha's face. "That is private, you bastard!"

Grinning fully, he hugged her. She cried into his chest before pulling back. All her best guy-friends stood there except Goku. She wiped at her eyes, lips wobbling. "This is so-so. . ."

"Mundo cool?" Krillin offered.

The ache in her chest lightened and Bulma laughed. "That pretty much sums it up," she said.

"You look good," Yamcha said.

Bulma nervously brushed a hand through her freshly shortened blue hair with just a hint of gray. "For my age, you mean?"

"Ah, you've hardly changed," he said, being too nice.

"May we come in?" Tien asked.

Bulma backed up. "Yes, how silly of me."

She led them into her simple home, which was no capsule corporation. The place was extremely clean because she'd busied herself with menial tasks ever since she'd sent her son to another timeline. She watched in amusement as Krillin wiped his feet on the welcome mat and then Piccolo copied the act. Gohan took off his shoes, much at home. She noted that they each appeared the exact same, even wearing the last outfit they perished in.

Bulma led them into the living room. Gohan sat in his usual recliner, a goofy smile on his face that resembled his father. Piccolo stood off to the side, never getting too chummy. The three-eyed man hesitantly sat on the couch and Krillin settled down beside him. Yamcha followed her into the kitchen.

"I was just fixing dinner. Anyone hungry?" she called out. Some enthusiastic replies followed. It was stupid. She should have been spouting questions, and here she was offering food. She grabbed the knife but her hand shook. The blade slipped on the tomato and slit the pad of her thumb. She hissed and pulled back.

"Are you okay?" Yamcha asked, concerned.

She nodded and went to the metal sink to rinse the cut under cold water. Tears slid silently down her cheeks. She felt her friend place a warm hand on her shoulder. It felt strange and foreign.

"Go sit down, I'll cook."

"Do you even know how?" she questioned.

He smiled and she took in the scar on his face. This really was Yamcha. "I think I can manage to chop vegetables."

"There are more vegetables in the fridge, I-we. . . we have a garden, and there is a homemade salad dressing too. Bowls are in the cupboard above the stove," she babbled.

Yamcha guided her to the living room. She stopped at the threshold of the room and took them in. The soft chatter carried her away to nineteen years ago.

Tien stretched out his arms. "It feels so good to have a body again."

"I'm going to miss dad, though," Gohan said.

"Did you get to see him in the Otherworld?" Krillin asked.

"Sure did," Gohan said. "We even trained together."

Tien looked over at Bulma. "I couldn't find Chiaotzu. Do you know if the little guy is still here?"

Bulma blinked, trying to focus. "Oh, last I heard he was with Roshi on the island. I think he's okay, but I don't really know."

He nodded, pleased and hopeful.

There was a span of silence. Krillin looked around. "Nice place, but why'd you move, Bulma?"

"It was too dangerous," Gohan answered for her.

"Oh, well, I'm sure Trunks will come back and beat the androids. Then you can go back if you want," Krillin said.

Bulma's head shot up. "Wait, how do you know Trunks is gone?"

"We saw him," Piccolo said. He had his arms crossed and Bulma was reminded of Vegeta. Obviously whoever returned her friends did not include him in the mix. Which she understood, he was most likely in hell to serve his punishment. "He was the one to wish on the Namek dragonballs to bring us back."

Krillin laughed uneasily. "It was weird. There was another Vegeta and we learned that we'd been brought back to another timeline."

Another Vegeta? Bulma couldn't seem to find her breath.

"There was another Dad too," Gohan stated.

Bulma realized that her plan to send Trunks into the other timeline must have worked. Another set of them lived on, and Goku hadn't died from the heart virus. Also, another Vegeta was there. This gave her a glimmer of peace.

"It sure is eerie knowing there is another us out there," Krillin said. "I got dizzy watching the two Vegetas side-by-side. When they fought it was hard to keep track of who was who."

"Ours was the one with the dark aura," Tien remarked.

Bulma regretted her decision to stand. "Vegeta was brought back too?" she choked.

"Unfortunately," Yamcha called from the kitchen.

Newfound mist played across her vision. "Where, where is he?"

Gohan looked over, concerned and empathetic. He knew how much she missed the prince. "He left us. Flew off somewhere by himself."

Not meeting her straight on, Krillin said, "Forgive me for saying this, Bulma, but he really is a jerk. When he was brought back he didn't show any appreciation and even criticized you. The other Vegeta, who weirdly seems to be one of the good-guys, intervened by punching him."

She hugged her arms and nodded.

The meal went well and everyone complimented her on the dressing. She put wonderings of Saiyan princes out of her mind and listened to them brainstorm their next moves. Piccolo would return to Mr. Popo at the Lookout, and Krillin would accompany him in order to train. Yamcha and Tien decided to see what kind of state Kame House was in, and search for Chiaotzu. Gohan, of course, would reunite with his mother. After dinner, she gathered the blankets she had, which weren't enough. Piccolo stated that he didn't need anything and even went outside in the backyard to sleep under the stars. Gohan offered his blanket to Krillin, who gratefully accepted.

Snores drifted into Bulma's bedroom and she stared up at the blackened ceiling, sleep far away. Her brain was too active. She rolled from one side to the other, and then lay on her back. Finally, she curled up in a fetal position and let out all her pent up emotions. Vegeta was back, somewhere- but not there. The hot tears slid down and she didn't bother wiping them. Trunks and she really meant so little to him. She'd been just a distraction all along, a good time, and Trunks had been an unwanted responsibility. It was better this way, she thought. If he saw how old she'd become and rejected her face-to-face it'd kill her more.

Fear filled her as she questioned if he'd gone to take on the androids again. Losing him a second time, even if he hadn't come to greet her, would be unbearable.

Hours passed and she still couldn't sleep. She stepped out of bed and fumbled in the dark for her robe. She tightened it around her waist and tip-toed to the backdoor. She stepped out into the night. Piccolo sat cross-legged as if he was meditating, so still, and she wondered if he were meditating or if he slept like that. She really wouldn't have been surprised.

Bulma walked across the grass and stepped on a stick. She wasn't wearing shoes and it hurt. "Ow," she yelped.

"Wimp."

She froze. That voice, so deep and raspy, and yet sexy. She knew then that she hadn't been out of bed for a midnight stroll, and that she'd been called there. His presence swam around her. The moon, wished back after all the Saiyans lost their tails, beamed down enough light for her to make out his shadow. He stood against a tree, arms crossed, expression hard. He wore the same battle uniform he'd worn the last time she'd seen him. The armor was a model she'd developed and given to him just for the android battle. He'd never know how much time and care she'd put into it.

Vegeta examined her and she suspected Saiyan eyes were keener than human. She probably looked disheveled and also dumpy in the humble robe. She unconsciously hugged herself as if she could hide the unattractiveness.

"I heard you were back," she said.

He grunted.

They were quiet, and Bulma didn't know what to do. She settled for being the hospitable person her mother taught her to be. "You can stay in the house if you want."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Like I'd share the same space as those weaklings."

She wouldn't tell him that Gohan was stronger now, and had surpassed him. Again, awkwardness fell over them.

"You don't look as old as you are," Vegeta cut the silence. "What are you, fifty? You look no older than forty."

Vegeta, of course, looked the same, young and muscular. A bruise was on his chin and Bulma knew it must have been left over from the mysterious fight with the other him. Just what kind of man was this other Vegeta? She was very curious, but she had her own Vegeta in front of her.

"Thank you. I'm not quite fifty." But close, she thought sadly. They stood there and Bulma grew restless. "Why did you come here?" she demanded.

He clenched his jaw. "I don't know. To tell you I don't intend on honoring Trunks' wishes perhaps."

Her eyes widened at the mention of her son.

"He wanted me to stand by your side like some babysitter, but you have your merry friends back now to protect you," he continued.

Firmly, she met his gaze. She lowered her arms to her side, allowing him to openly see the state she'd turned into. "I don't expect anything from you. I've managed without you for nearly nineteen years." Bulma bit her lip before he could catch it trembling.

He stepped away from the tree. "As long as I made myself clear."

"You made yourself very clear, Vegeta. Now, I'll go back inside and go to sleep." She faked a yawn and turned. She hurried across the yard, wanting to go back into the house to cry again. She made it to the edge of the house before a strong hand grabbed her wrist.

Her body spun around and she was pinned against the siding of the house. His hard body pressed against her, his knee sliding between her legs. She squirmed.

"Let me go, Vegeta!" she protested.

She was no match for a Saiyan, and truth be told, she wasn't really sure she wanted him to stop. Vegeta fumbled with the tie of the terrycloth robe and his rough hands ventured in to grope her. She moaned, the neglected womanhood coming to life within her. For nineteen years she'd only felt this passion in her dreams. No, she thought. This could only lead to badness. He'd leave and she'd never find peace again. No, no, no, yes.

Two fingers prodded at the slit between her legs. She widened her hips in invitation. He played against her clit and then slid in and out- over and over. She shuddered, losing leg support, but he held her up with his free arm.

"Still want me to stop, woman?" he asked seductively.

She clutched at him, shaking her head. She grabbed at his armor, lifting it over his head. Then she tugged on the blue spandex. Naked, he took her against the house. He tossed the robe aside and lifted her so her legs could wrap around his middle. She was so thankful that she'd shaved that morning. His member was larger than she remembered and she cried out on impact. Her fingers squeezed his shoulders. He flipped them so that he was the one pressed against the house and he helped her ride him up and down. She hoped he didn't think she was too old to do it herself, but decided he only wanted her faster and harder. Their bodies lapped together loudly and she buried her face into his chest as waves began in her nether regions. His hands continued to slam her down and she lost any logical processes.

Vegeta grunted and came. They panted together, faces close. The calm didn't last long. He carried her over near the tree and deposited her to the ground. She lay, vulnerable and wanting, looking up at him with unfocused eyes. Yet again, she was amazed at how unsated Saiyans were. They had the stamina to go on for hours. The thought dizzied her brain further.

Vegeta crawled on top of her. His penis twitched to life again, nudging at the side of her hip. He pinched her right nipple and rubbed the fullness of her breast. She whimpered, the heat and ache at her core begging to be quenched. She lifted herself, trying to draw him in. Smirking smugly, he slid once again into her. Her nails clawed at his back and he stayed put, bending down to kiss her. The fierce mixture of hardness within and hot tongue in her mouth had her filled to the brim, and needing more. Their lips smashed together, and their bodies began to rock. She panted as he slid, hitting her over the edge more than once.

The act was not beautiful. It was harsh and instinctual, animalistic. He spent himself into her, and his heavy breaths hit her slick skin. She lifted a hand between them and pressed a palm against his heart. Their eyes met.

She didn't know why she did it. The movement was completely unconscious. His powerful beats shot out, stronger than a human's. Maybe she was trying to push love into his chest, desperately trying to make his heart beat for her the same way hers did for him.

Vegeta pulled out of her and grabbed her wrist. "What are you doing?"

Her lips parted. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

He broke all contact, leaving her cold. She covered her breasts and sat up, watching as he dressed.

"Vegeta?"

He paused as he pulled on the armor breastplate. "Don't try and make this more than it was, what it ever was," he declared.

Her eyes stung. She'd been so strong for years and here she was crying over and over. She shivered. He'd come back to life and she felt like it was her turn to die.

"Tears don't become you, woman," he said.

"Then don't make me shed them," she said.

"That must be my cue to leave then."

Vegeta shot out into the air before she could stop him. She forced herself to suck in the tears and stood up. She gathered the muddy robe and wrapped it against her. She walked slowly past Piccolo, who was still in the same position. She caught a twitch from him and her face flushed. Namekians had extremely good hearing.

Bulma entered the house and was thankful to still hear snoring. They hadn't been too loud then. She went into her bedroom and shed the dirty robe. She crawled into bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She shut her eyes but knew she wouldn't get any sleep that night.


	3. Chapter 3

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

AN- I made a mistake. Bulma is not close to 60, but 50. My math was way off! Sorry, guys, I fixed it in the last chapter, so we're good now.

If you are reading Twice Upon a Time, I promise to get the next chapter up soon. I really want to be writing that instead, but I knew I had to do this first. Keep in mind about the dream in this because there is a slight tie-in.

**Chapter 3**

Bulma dreamed of a land as barren as her heart. Everything was gray- different shades, cast in shadow. Her feet in worn sneakers pounded against the rocky earth. The gravity seemed harsher, like the atmosphere in the old gravity chamber. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt, lounging clothes. The low sky was cloudy and dark, and Bulma felt like it might swallow her up. The air was thick and hard to breathe.

Sweat accumulated on her brow at the struggle to keep walking, but she knew she had to keep moving. If she didn't, she'd get lost in the nothingness, the aloneness. The ground became uneven and she almost tripped. She slowed and spun around. There was nothing in sight, nothing but the void. The urge to collapse to her knees and give up was strong. Instead she kept going, determined and strong.

Where is everyone? Where is _he_?

Her body tipped forward and she almost fell forward off a cliff that came out of nowhere. She held her chest, eyes wide, gaping down into the black pit. A sense of vertigo swam over her. Across the chasm she spotted a silhouette. It was him, she knew because of the flame-tipped hair. She reached out and called to him, but he ignored her. The soil beneath her feet became unsteady and gave away at the edge of the cliff.

She stepped back and turned around to safety. Hot silent tears streamed down her cheeks. Of course he wouldn't reach back or call back. She was an inconvenience, a weakness.

Why not stop? Why not let the darkness engulf her?

Bulma's legs ached. She hesitated for a few seconds, and suddenly the ground rumbled. Her arms flailed at her sides and she cried out. The rocky surface she stood upon began to crack and crumble. There was nothing to grab hold of. She lost balance and fell. Her body began to slide towards the abyss.

"Vegeta!" she desperately wailed.

She reached the end of the ground and her legs tipped over the side into nothingness. This is it, she thought. Her eyes squeezed shut.

Strong fingers grabbed her right wrist and heaved her up one-handed. She toppled onto something familiar and hard, gasping, relieved. "Oh, Vegeta!" She kissed his face all over.

Surprisingly, he didn't push her aside and leaned back in allowance. "You came," she continued.

"I'm here when it matters," he declared.

The words were hard to take in. She eyed him and had a hard time believing that this was the Vegeta she knew. The look on his face was too concerned. Could that be love in his dark eyes? No, it couldn't be. Her lips parted to ask questions but she never got the chance.

Bulma awoke. She clutched the cold sheets and kept her eyes shut, not ready to face the day. It should have been a glorious new day, her friends alive in the next room (she could hear them chattering lowly), but she felt as heartbroken and lost as she had before they arrived. Damn you, Vegeta, she thought. Why couldn't that savior Vegeta she'd imagined be real?

Finally, she tore herself from her refuge, dressed, and emerged. Her friends greeted her warmly. Piccolo glanced her way and a tint of soft rose appeared on his green cheeks. Embarrassed, she turned away. They spent the day talking and joking together and Bulma cleared her mind from the aggravating Saiyan who brought her more trouble than it was worth. It was fine until the group declared their destinations, preparing to leave.

Gohan said he'd come back immediately to visit after reuniting with his mother. Krillin also promised to welcome Trunks when he arrived home. She hugged her friends one by one and wished them luck at training, and also to be careful. They promised not to engage with the androids, leaving that task to Trunks.

Closing the door, the darkness swallowed her, and it seemed as uninhabited as her dream. She sighed, trying to banish the distant rough voice and ghostly hands that still lingered over her body.

* * *

Vegeta roamed the destructive landscape, amazed at the devastation left behind by the androids. Entire neighborhoods were demolished. Houses had roofs caved in and windows shattered. Debris littered the streets. It was a warzone, abandoned, and silent. If there were survivors, they'd cleared out or were in hiding. It reminded him of abandoned landscapes he'd encountered in his position under Frieza, purging planets, exploding villages, and showing off his power.

This was different because it wasn't _him_ doing it, but _them_. He gritted his teeth. Destroying planets had been somewhat fulfilling, when he could gloat about it afterward and feel superior. The androids' mess filled him with rage and loathing. It proved how dominant they were to the humans, which dug in that he was most likely still not strong enough to beat them.

The urge to seek them out and make up for his previous loss was strong, but a repeated failure scared him. One thing Vegeta would never admit to anyone, and hated himself for, was being afraid of anything. He flexed his hand and took in a deep breath. Having a body felt good. He'd missed it in hell, being only a shapeless blob of energy. He really didn't want to chance another death.

Vegeta disliked mostly everyone. There was not a single person that he'd call a friend. Some people amused him, some disgusted him, and some down-right annoyed him. Walking through the ghost-town that used to be West City unnerved him. He enjoyed the silence, preferred it to whimpering babies, PMS women, and idiots, but it was also unnatural.

He stopped before the lot that used to be called Capsule Corporation. It was recognizable, only because he could make out that the building used to form a dome. The entire top was missing, like something had fallen from the sky onto it. The logo was partially still visible with CA, but the other letters were no longer legible, smashed and cracked. Pieces of metal splayed across the brown grassy lawn. The gravity chamber capsule was completely vacant. A tightening in his chest emerged and he reasoned that it must be loss from the gravity chamber.

It was then that he decided to go back to Bulma. Not because he had any ties to her, but because he needed a place to train. There was only one thing to do: train and defeat the androids. He needed a proper training ground, a gravity chamber, and she was the only one who could provide it. Yes, that was it. Once he fought them and won, repaired his ego, he'd move on to some other galaxy and be done with this wretched mudball of a planet once and for all.

He followed her ki back to the humble dwelling she now called home. He barged into the darkened building, making his way to her bedroom. He slammed open the door and froze, taking in the state of her.

Bulma's eyes widened in embarrassment. Her mouth formed an 'o' and she let out a tiny squeak. Her hand reached under her long nightgown which was bunched up to her thighs, still, caught in the cookie-jar. He spotted her white panties near the foot of the bed on the floor.

The Saiyan smirked. "Miss me?"

"You bastard," she said.

Saiyans have sensitive noses and as he stepped in he caught the scent of her arousal and juices. It instantly made him hard. The damn woman. He'd just come to train and she'd done it again, gotten him off track. He quickly shed the spandex outfit and saunteredto the bed. He caught her eyes on him but when he crawled onto the mattress she recoiled.

Vegeta growled. "Don't pretend you don't want me, woman."

That lit her eyes with a spark. "I want you, Vegeta, and that's the problem! I don't want to want you."

He hovered over her, lifted over her head by his muscular arms. His face was too close to hers. She turned her head away but he forced her back with a hand.

"And I want to want you? Hell, Bulma, I'm just as unhappy about this situation as you!"

"I know that! How could I not know that?" She wriggled, intent on escaping. He held her down.

He caught her in a heated kiss. His lips were hard against her soft ones. She relented and relaxed as he knew she would. Her lips parted and he slipped his tongue inside to steal more contact.

Every time he came to this woman for physical release it became harder and harder to keep away. She scrambled his mind, made him forget what was truly important, what his purpose was in life. Strength, revenge, power. What was this? A distraction. Still, the distinction between value and diversion weakened and weakened. She was no longer a simple past time, something that he could call a triumph and then walk away from. No, she was becoming a need. A _reoccurring_ need.

Soon it would be too late. He'd stay. He'd become consumed by these frivolous human passions. He'd stay on this godforsaken mudball . . . and enjoy it.

This angered him. He detested this woman, as he did himself. How dare she be so desirable? How dare he find her so desirable? How dare he become so un-Saiyan, lost in someone who couldn't open a peanutbutter jar without a kitchen handgrip.

Aggressively, he tugged the nightgown off her body. The thoughts of self-loathing ran through him as he fell into the depths of the very thing that made him have them. She whimpered and tried to touch him tenderly, and look at him with those soulful blue orbs. He couldn't help but admit she was still beautiful. Time may have changed her a little here and there, but she was still youthful and spirited. Her skin was smooth and curved, her body mostly in-shape. Her hair wasn't as vibrant, but it still complimented her face, and brought out her eyes. She was Bulma. She loved him, this he knew. It tightened at his heart, battled against the steel, and he warred by being outwardly unkind. If he was too rough, maybe she'd push him away, set him straight. Tell him to leave her for good.

But she didn't. She took it. She bucked against him as he pounded wildly. She acted like it didn't hurt at all, and even pleasured in it. Her nails dug into his back as she cried out his name. Hot, sweaty, and sated, they collapsed on the bed. She curled up to him and wrapped an arm around him.

"I'm glad you came back," she said.

Vegeta shut his eyes. He should have pushed her away, gotten up, but he let her hold him. He feared he was losing the battle.

* * *

When Bulma awoke, Vegeta was gone. She touched the left side of the bed, now cold. She cursed and punched the pillow. So, she was just a play thing to fetch and then toss aside over and over. Of course she knew that already.

Vegeta was Vegeta. She loved him anyway.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the blank ceiling. She remembered that day when she scavenged material for the time machine and she'd encountered what she could only imagine was Vegeta's ghost. He'd enveloped her in a warmth she'd never feel bodily. If he remembered the encounter, the bond, he was not going to let it mean anything. She took up the pillow and placed it over her mouth, and let out a muffled scream.

Bulma sat up and rubbed her eyes. Fine, she thought. Everything was fine.

A yell erupted from the next room. Bulma sprung up and fled to the bedroom which belonged to Trunks. She pushed open the door to find Vegeta in a much disrupted sleep. So, he'd left her like he used to at Capsule Corp, going to another room after his fix, setting boundaries, and bypassing morning cuddle-sessions. She noticed the closet was open and a pile of clothes spilled out. Trunks, she thought, you need to clean your room. Vegeta tossed and turned and she focused yet again.

Bulma came over and gently touched his bare shoulder. "Vegeta? Hey, it's okay. It's only a nightmare."

His body jerked, his eyes popped open. He grabbed her wrist tightly, nose flaring. Then, he pushed her aside.

"I don't need your comfort! I don't need anyone!"

She backed up. "Okay, geez. Sorry for caring!"

Vegeta sat up, the covers lowering and she realized he was still nude. She made a note to laundry the sheets before Trunks came back.

"If you want to do something for me, woman, go do something useful! Use that brain of yours to make me another gravity chamber," he barked.

She frowned. She realized then that he hadn't come back for her but for that stupid contraption. Training. It was all about training. She turned so he wouldn't see the look on her face. She stomped out of the room and slammed the door.

Bulma stormed into the back laboratory. It was a tad messy with paper notes and plans all over the workstation. Her yellow toolbox was open on the floor; screwdrivers, hammer, ratchets, and bolts peeking out. She kicked the toolbox with her foot. Ow.

She reached onto a top shelf, lifting on her tip-toes. She brought down a metal box and her hand dug through capsules. Her fingers wrapped around one labeled GR. She snatched it up. Vegeta had no idea that she'd saved his precious gravity chamber. It'd been one of the few things she'd salvaged. One of the few things that mattered.

Wetness in her eyes, she took the capsule over the worktable. She took up a red-handled hammer and smashed the capsule. A little poof and snap came from the impact. She stood over the smashed gravity chamber, breathing hard.

The damned gravity chamber had been the first place they'd kissed. Probably the place Trunks was conceived in. She hated that place and loved it all at once. Now it was gone. Her shoulders shook as she lowered the hammer.

If Vegeta wanted a gravity chamber, fine. He'd have one. But she wouldn't allow him this one.


	4. Chapter 4

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

AN- Anybody else really excited for the DBZ Rock the Dragon DVD boxset? It releases August 13 for $89.99 on Amazon.

**Chapter 4**

It hit her as she was planning the new GR that everything was wrong. Bulma groaned and scribbled randomly with her pen across the piece paper. It was a waste of precious resource because simple supplies such as lined paper were hard to come by, but she was so overcome by frustration. Things weren't supposed to be this way. She put so much effort into Vegeta and deserved respect, and love in return. He was back, here with her, but only bodily. She slammed her palm down on the worktable, demanding more from a God long dead.

In the dim light, Bulma hunched over her half-hearted project, putting her head in her hands. The pen rolled off the table and onto the cement floor with a soft clang. When she'd sent Trunks to the past she'd done it selflessly and with good intent, but now she couldn't help but feel longing and jealousy for the other side. At least that Bulma had Capsule Corporation to fall back on when Vegeta treated her like shit. That Bulma wouldn't have to feel this lost, lonely, and fallen, without purpose or direction.

Thinking of the past, Bulma questioned when the fire died within her. Her former self never would have taken Vegeta's remarks and sexual mistreatment lying down. She would have stood up and fought, and gave him hell back.

Taking a shaky breath, Bulma lifted her head and blinked. She crumpled the drafted GR plan and tossed it into the trash. True, a part of Bulma died when her friends perished, and especially when she'd gotten word of Vegeta's demise, but now she had them back, everyone but Goku at least. Why did she still feel so misplaced? Was she still so shallow that she needed power and wealth to feel happy? No, she was Bulma Briefs, the girl who traveled around the world with a radar in search for magical balls. The problem fell on her alone. She'd given up somewhere along the road.

The realization washed over her and she knew she had a decision to make. Was she going to keep sleepwalking through life, or wake up and resurrect that feisty passion that made life worth living? The answer was easy. She was Bulma Briefs, and dammit, she was going to crawl out of this pit. She was going to take back her dreams, hope, and goals. The future did not have to remain barren and desolate- it was something unwritten.

Bulma stood, bent, and retrieved the blue ballpoint pen. She clicked it with determination. She was not strong but she had brains and spirit. It was time to work toward gathering the pieces and get what she wanted.

The stasis Vegeta and she were in would have to shift. He was just as broken as she was, covering it up by thick skin and physical release. What was best for both of them was a renewed spark to the extinguished wick.

Bulma stomped up the stairs. She combed the house for him but he had vanished. The anger built inside and she held onto it, using it as fuel. She went outside, slamming the back screen-door behind her. She found him near the garden, only dressed in a pair of their son's gray sweatpants. Sweat glistened down his back as he moved in slow motion, waving his hands around. The exercise reminded her of tai-chi. This was something new she'd never seen him do before. She watched for a few moments before he spoke.

"What do you want, woman?" he demanded. "I'm in the middle of something."

"This seems a bit too gentle for you, Vegeta, I'm surprised," Bulma said.

He lowered his arms and spun to face her. He frowned deeply. "It's called Ginkaibu, a form of concentrating the flow of ki. I learned it on the planet. . . It doesn't matter. Woman, state your business."

Bulma put her hands on her hips. "I came out here to inform you that I am not your slave, sexual or mechanical. You will have to earn my services. If you stay here, which you have complete freedom to leave, I have conditions." She lifted her chin proudly and met him in the eye.

Vegeta crossed his arms. "Conditions? And those would be what?"

Opening her mouth, she faltered. "I. . . don't know yet."

"Hn," he muttered, shaking his head.

"Well, first off I demand respect. I am not some cheap fuck you can use whenever you get the urge." She began to tick off her conditions on her fingers. Cussing felt weird because it'd been so long, but also good. She never used bad words in front of Trunks. "I'm not your maid. You'll have to pick up after yourself, take out the trash, etcetera. When your son gets back I want you to actually spend time with him. And . . . Well, I'll come up with more later. If you follow my conditions you'll get rewarded. I'll build your precious gravity chamber and maybe if you manage to treat me fairly I'll make love." He winced. "Excuse me, should I have used the phrase _mate with you_? That's the thing, Vegeta, I'm done with animal instinct. I-I'm better than that. I desire an actual relationship."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow. He was about to respond when the wind changed. The Saiyan positioned himself, ready for a fight or whatever was to come. Bulma's eyes widened, pretty sure what was happening.

"Oh," Bulma said.

The time machine popped out of nowhere, its image flickering in and out until it fully solidified. The vehicle was still shiny, only a hint of dust on the bottom of its four legs. Bulma squealed in excitement and lifted onto her tiptoes. The hatch popped and a familiar lavender-haired man peeked out. Trunks hopped out of the chair and climbed down. By the look in his eyes and the excited open-mouthed smile, she knew the trip succeeded. She let out a relieved breath and smiled back.

He came up and gracefully hugged her. "Mom."

"Oh, Trunks, I'm so glad you made it back okay," she said, squeezing him tight.

Trunks pulled back and glanced over towards Vegeta. He nodded at him and said, "Da-Father."

Vegeta grunted in response. Bulma's chest panged at his rock-hard stare and impassive mouth and jaw. He didn't seem to care one bit. His son, all grown up now, arrived from the past, unharmed, and the bastard didn't even bat an eye.

"I take it things went well," Bulma said.

The joy returned to Trunks' face. "Yes. We ran into some trouble with the androids, and then with a being called Cell, but it all worked out. I got to meet everyone in the past, and then we brought their counterparts back. Did they make it here okay?"

Bulma reached out and took his hand. She met his gaze. "Yes, everyone but Goku is alive and well, thanks to you. They said they would come back to visit soon."

He nodded. "I'm glad. I can't wait to see Gohan again."

She patted his hand before letting go.

Trunks stepped back over to the time machine and rummaged inside. He brought out a basket of blueberry muffins and handed them over to his mother. "Grandma sent muffins."

Stricken, Bulma held the basket to her chest. Her lip trembled a bit but then they lifted. "So like Mom."

He held up a remote. It had a dial and two buttons. "Mo- My young mother, gave me this. It is a device to stop the androids. It can deactivate them from a short distance away."

Bulma took the remote and examined it curiously. She hypothesized that it produced electromagnetic pulses. An electrostatic discharge of high voltage could case sparks and mess with nearby charged objects. It would definitely put a machine out of commission, given the right voltage. How cleaver, she thought, patting her past self on the back.

Gloomy and grumpy as ever, Vegeta said, "Taking the cowards way out."

She glared. "The most powerful warriors on Earth went against these androids and lost, you being one of them. This isn't cowardly, this is self-preservation," she spat.

"I understand that your solution to everything involves science and gadgets, but mine is my body, nothing more. Relying upon scrap metal and electricity is stating you are weak on your own. There is no honor in that."

"Let me remind you, buster, that scrap metal and electricity, AKA the time machine, is the only reason you stand here now. Plus, if accessories are so cowardly, what about the dragon balls? I remember you wanting them so bad to become immortal. A very cowardly act indeed," she said, waving the remote.

Vegeta scowled in what Bulma decided was a Saiyan pout. Ha, I win, she thought. She spotted Trunks watching them, but mostly her. He seemed surprised and inquisitive about her behavior. Her son wasn't used to her fighting attitude because there just wasn't anyone to worthily argue with. Get ready for a show, Bulma silently declared.

AN- Sorry this is so short. I figured it was time Bulma come out of her depression and take up arms. She's not going to let Vegeta walk all over her. Oh, and yes, Trunks will tell Bulma about the other Vegeta.


	5. Chapter 5

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

**Chapter 5**

Being home was bittersweet. Trunks missed the lively and peaceful atmosphere of the other timeline, as well as the comforts of Capsule Corporation. He especially yearned for the Vegeta he'd left behind, one who approved of his ability and even hugged him goodbye. The one he felt relaxed calling Dad. This Vegeta, his real father, was an icy wall that held him at length, and only looked at him with criticism. There was no love there.

He'd told himself that he could deal with the difference between the two counterparts, that he could handle the dead in Vegeta's heart, but confronting it pulled at his chest and questions arose. Why can't he love us? What do we have to do? Is it a lost cause?

Seeing his mother, though, warmed him. They ate the muffins together and Bulma wiped her wet eyes, chewing particularly slowly. He knew she missed his grandparents terribly. Then, she heated a stew, in which Vegeta ventured off to eat alone. He disappeared out the back, and Bulma commented that he didn't know what to do with himself anymore.

Bulma leaned forward, curiosity enrich in her eyes. "So, Trunks, tell me about your trip. How is everyone?"

Trunks swallowed a spoonful of stew, savoring the taste of potato and carrot. He had to admit this Bulma, his real mother, could cook better than the young one. I guess she had to learn, he thought. There weren't robots to help, maids, or a willing grandmother.

"They're great! Yamcha is hitting it off as a professional baseball player. Tien and Chiaotzu got their own place. Krillin . . . Get this, Mom, Krillin is dating Android 18, and they are staying with Master Roshi. Dad says . . . um . . . " He was about to say _Dad says they are going to have a child together_ but stopped because he realized she wasn't aware that the other Vegeta came back from the future as well. There was going to have to be some explaining to do.

His mother's bright blue eyes widened and her jaw fell open. "What? Android 18!" she squeaked. She noticed he seemed a little nervous. "Trunks, what is it?"

Hmmm, how to say it? He hoped he was making the right decision. He didn't want to get her hopes up about his father changing into a decent man. The story might make her disheartened or even jealous. But, the other Bulma told him to tell his mother not to give up, and that eventually this Vegeta would come around as well. He just hoped she was right.

"I met Dad, and he wasn't exactly what I expected," Trunks began.

She pulled back and looked down. "I told you not to expect much. I'm sorry, dear."

Trunks slid a hand through his lavender locks. "No, Mom, you don't understand. I expected very little when I traveled there."

"Are you saying -?"

He couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips. "Yes. Mom, you wouldn't believe what I encountered. Dad came from the future as well with the help of the dragon balls. He actually married you _voluntarily_. Both of you still fought but he loved you. You almost lost me before I was born and father did this ki exchange to save the baby. He wanted me around, both the baby me and me. He trained with me in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber and even said I met his approval. I promised him I wouldn't tell anyone, but before I left he hugged me goodbye."

This must have made Bulma's head spin. She gripped the edge of the wooden square table and stared at her fingers. After a few seconds, she glanced toward the back screen door, after a moody Saiyan. "How far in the future was he from? Did he say?"

Trunks blinked. Had Vegeta actually revealed the date? He couldn't remember. He shrugged. "I don't know. After you died."

"Did he say what changed him?" Her eyes turned, pleading.

Trunks yet again couldn't remember. "No. He was still pretty closed off and secretive."

She nodded.

"Dad-" he began.

"I notice you call him Dad," she said.

"Oh, uh, yeah. It was something that I picked up. Miraculously he allowed it."

Bulma smiled sadly. Trunks rubbed his fingers together under the table. He really hoped he wasn't making his mom upset.

"Well, Dad asked Goku to use instant transmission and we went to New Namek. We wished on the Namek balls to bring everyone, including Father, back to life. Funny thing, both of them, Dad and Father, got in a fistfight over you."

Bulma's head shot up. "Me?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. Father called you . . . oh. . ."

"It's okay, Trunks, I can take it."

"He called you old." He kicked himself for not censoring. "But, Dad stood up for you and yelled about how you were beautiful and always would be. He was really pissed off."

There was a span of silence. A tremor ran down Bulma and an accumulation of water formed in her right eye. This really is a bad idea, Trunks realized. I should stop talking.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have given you all the details. I understand that this must be hard for you considering how Father here is so uncaring."

She instantly touched his arm. "No, please go on. I want to know."

"Okay," he said, still unsure. "Dad and I battled this android called Cell. Well, actually, he was Super Improved Cell. He was about to attack me with a death beam but Dad threw himself in front of it instead." He took in an unsteady breath. The memory was hard. "He almost died, but Goku managed to save him with ki transference and instant transmission to the hospital. Goku ended up dying in battle, but agreed to be resurrected after a year. That's about it."

Bulma let it all sink in. She gave him an unsteady smile. "That's great. Of course, not that Goku died or that Vegeta almost did. I'm so happy you met your fa- Dad. It truly is amazing. So amazing that it makes me want to hop into that time machine and make sure you didn't make the whole thing up." She flashed him a wink, trying to liven the mood.

With that, his mom stood up to clear the table. She stacked the brown bowels and headed for the kitchen. Trunks followed behind her.

"Are you really all right?" he pressed.

"Yes," she said. She started the water in the sink to wash the dishes.

"Really?"

She startled them both when she slammed the bowls down on the counter. It made her jump and Trunks' eyes widened. His mother never acted violently. Her shoulders shook slightly.

"I'm sorry," she said.

What a moron, Trunks told himself. He shouldn't have revealed all the details. She didn't have to know everything she was missing out on. He gently touched her shoulder and she stilled. Finally, she shifted to meet his gaze. He was surprised to find determination on her face.

"We are both being silly," she said. She brushed her eyes. "If Vegeta can become a good husband and father in the other timeline, then this one is capable of becoming at least tolerable. It's just up to us to take on the challenge."

Trunks tried to muster the same determination. "That's what the other Bulma said. She told me to tell you to hang in there and everything would get better."

Bulma straightened, head high. "That settles it. We are going to whip your father into shape and not become discouraged."

"Right," he said, trying to convince himself that there was hope, and that someday this Vegeta would not only be a father, but also his Dad. It was difficult, but he tried, not only for his mother, but also for himself.

* * *

Not having a gravity chamber for Vegeta was like Goku not having food, or Bulma not having science. He resolved to doing things the old-fashioned way in the patch of clearing near the garden. Trunks encapsulated the time machine so there was enough open space to move freely. Vegeta stretched and began push-ups, and then proceeded into kicks and punches. It wasn't fulfilling. There was no resistance, no challenge. His muscles moved fluidly without opposition, without the ache or strain to become stronger, and to overcome the obstacle of force. There was no pride in this.

Frustrated and enraged, Vegeta began to hack at the thick trunk of a nearby tree. He pounded on it, making dents in the bark and wood. He didn't realize that he turned into Super Saiyan, giving off a golden aura. A holler erupted from his throat and lungs, and he kept at it until there was a snap and the damned tree fell over.

The sound had Bulma rushing out of the modest house with a dripping green sponge in hand. "What the hell?" she yelled. She took in the scene with her lips in a line. "Next time you are going somewhere with open space."

He powered down, but still held his hands in fists. "Send me off and I might not come back, woman."

"Yes you will."

He growled at her fresh confidence.

She pointed at the fallen tree. Splinters shot out from the snap in the trunk, where the rest of it drooped to the ground. "We'll have plenty of firewood," she said. "Come with me to get the chainsaw."

Vegeta crossed his arms. "You expect me to cut it up into pieces?"

"Duh," she said. "Remember my conditions?"

"Fuck your conditions. I do what I damn well please. I am the Prince of All Saiyans."

"Yeah, yeah. If you want that gravity room and company at night you'll chop down the tree and do as I say. Got it?"

He grunted. "Fine, take me to the chainsaw, but I'm only doing it because it is an eyesore."

The woman had the gall to smirk. He watched her saunter across the lawn, swinging her hips, and drawing attention to her tight ass. He noticed that she'd changed from the frumpy lounging pants and sweatshirt from that morning into a tight skirt and blouse. Vegeta suspected she was playing with him. This was a game to her, he realized with irritation.

They stepped into the darkened house. It was quiet. He slowed and took in that Trunks' ki signature was vacant.

"Where's the boy?" he asked.

Bulma halted her step. "Huh? You mean he isn't here?"

"I wouldn't be asking if he was." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "The boy went to use that wretched remote, didn't he?"

Circumstances were really getting to him. The world he came back to was bleak and uninviting. He was a warrior, a Saiyan prince, and here he was without a purpose or fight. He'd been stripped of everything that mattered. Kakarot was dead, and so he'd never be able to surpass him in battle. The androids that should have been his kill were stolen from him by his son, taken to use some weakling contraption. There wasn't anything worth living for. Why did he even get brought back?

Bulma moved around the kitchen as if in search of something. She pulled out a drawer and then lifted out the remote. Her eyes became worried. He stared her way, unfeeling. She stomped over and shoved the remote in his face.

"Trunks has gone to fight the androids and left it here because you had to go and call it cowardly. You uncaring bastard! Our son has gone to battle the androids that killed all the Z-fighters with his bare hands, when he could have done it with the simple push of a button."

He continued to stare blankly. She threw the remote at his chest. It bounced off and thumped to the tiled floor.

"He left it here because he wants to prove himself to you. But you are thick as stone. Our son might die out there and you stand like a statue! I'd say 'I hope you're happy' but you don't feel a damn thing. Not a damn thing!" She hit his chest before fleeing out of the room.

Vegeta stood there for a long time. He went over to the remote and stomped on it with his foot. There was a satisfying cracking sound. Then, he left the house and took to the sky. He searched for Trunks' ki and found it without trouble.

It wasn't that he worried about the safety of his son. No, he followed because he wanted a second shot at the electronic bastards himself and didn't want the boy stealing his chance. This was the only thing he had left. The only drive that remained. If he lost, well so be it. At least he died in battle, a true Saiyan death. _Again_. It was better than a future of boring chores as the woman wished, spending time with an unwanted offspring, and settling down amongst the rubble.

The landscape changed to crumbled buildings and cracked cement. Crumpled cars and pieces of tire littered the city streets. The sound of blasts and shouts came into hearing.

Vegeta lowered onto the roof of a decrepit building. He watched below as a cloud of dust formed. The dust cleared and his son stepped out in a glow of yellow. Vegeta clenched his jaw. Trunks was a Super Saiyan. His golden hair flung up from the power. The android siblings took his arrival calmly.

"Hey, it's you," Android 17 deadpanned.

Trunks narrowed his eyes. "Yeah, it's me. The name's Trunks. Look, it's over. It stops here."

"It does, huh? Don't you remember what happened last time? Nothing stops here but you."

Android 18 glared and glanced back at her brother. "Gosh, how rude, he's such an arrogant little punk. Man, that's it, I want him dead."

The pretty girl held out an open palm. She flung out a purple stream of engery. From his perch, Vegeta's right leg flinched foward. What? But of course, he thought, I want to step in and beat them myself. It had nothing to do with fatherly instincts or any of those Earthling sentimentalities.

Vegeta watched in amazement as Trunks phased behind the female android. She gaped as he popped up. Before she could react, Trunks hit her like she was nothing more than a volleyball. Her body flew backwards into the walls of the ruined buildings. Vegeta took in the rippled muscles of his son's arms, muscles that rivaled his own.

The Saiyan continued his watch as his son dodged and deflected energy blasts and returned them, meeting their mark. Android 18 became bruised and sluggish. Finally she staggered until she crumpled to the pavement.

"I don't know how but he's changed. He's good," Android 17 said.

Vegeta frowned. His son was beating Android 18 and wasn't even breaking a sweat.

Trunks gave a speech about the androids feeling powerless to stop him just like the civilians of Earth had when they attacked them. Android 17 declared that Trunks couldn't stop both of them. Then, his son did something that no one could have foreseen. He changed his energy yet again, the glow intensifying, his hair changing again, becoming thicker and wilder.

Super Saiyan 2! This was enough! Vegeta sped away, not able to take it. He heard crashes and screams of pain behind him, none from his son. Of course not, because his son was a fucking Super Saiyan 2!

He flew and flew into the distance, over fallen homes and businesses, heading nowhere. There was nowhere to go. He was no warrior, and had no battle to face. Worthless, he thought. I'm a has-been. People were supposed to bow down at my feet while I ruled them. I was supposed to take over the universe, this planet included. But, now, here I am, in a world without anything worthy to take. No opponents to surpass, because they were being killed by his own son who surpassed him. Fists at his side, he pressed onward into the darkening night, nothing but shadows of glory behind him, and blackness ahead.

AN- Thank you all for the reviews!


	6. Chapter 6

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

AN- I want to reiterate that this is a spin-off to my story Twice Upon a Time. I did not plan for this to be so entwined with the other story, but it is, and so if something doesn't make sense, that is why. It is probably wise to read the other story, or just ask me for clarification.

**Chapter 6**

He roamed for a little over a week in a suspended limbo, in which he contemplated his very existence. Since the cities were nothing but deserted pieces of wreckage, Vegeta projected his conflicted feelings onto buildings and remnants of a once booming civilization. Flashes of similar encounters on distant planets passed in his mind, but these had been from triumphant purges because of his superiority. This was simply kicking already burnt ashes from someone else's extinguished bonfire.

There was nothing left for him here. Not that there ever had been. He'd stayed to ascend, to fight Kakarot and redeem himself, to master the gravity chamber's limits, and to beat the androids for glory. Here he was now, in the middle of a dead city, with no title or rank, the resurrected Saiyan prince with no subjects or power, without an opponent, and therefore no purpose or reason.

Vegeta always had a duty. First, it was as a prince and to uphold Saiyan royal ideals, secondly to defeat Frieza, thirdly to beat Kakarot, and then to destroy the androids. He'd always known what to do and what to strive for. This time, nothing was outlined. A part of him almost wished he'd been left alone in his grave. His death had been honorable, a good warrior downfall. He stood, hands balled in the middle of the cracked barren street, teeth gritted, and head held high to no one. The body he owned breathed and his heart beat, but he still felt dead, left in a hell. Even in hell, though, he'd known why he was there. This place, this reality, left him with nothing but uncertainty, doubt, and shame.

There were only two possible choices: go back and beg the woman for a training room to prepare for the next possible tormenter, or leave the mudball planet altogether and create a new drive. The decision wasn't hard to make. He needed a space ship and to go into outerspace, at least for a little while, to at least clear his head.

With new resolve, Vegeta flew toward Bulma and his son's house. He landed in the front yard and stood, crossing his arms. Convincing the woman that he needed a ship wouldn't be easy. She was a stubborn one and made everything difficult. She had some sort of notion that he owed her and their son something. He'd made no promises or hints of attachment. Maybe it was a human female thing. . . or she was simply Bulma Brief.

Just then, the middle-aged woman raced out of the house, leaving the door wide open, and flung herself at him before he could react. He wondered how she'd known he had returned. Her arms went around his neck and she pecked his cheek. Vegeta blinked and pushed her away with a snarl. "Get off me, woman!"

The blue thunder smirked at him. Her eyes lit up with a light that was definitely not there the last time he'd been in her presence. "I knew you'd come back." She had the audacity to grab his arm and pull him along. "You missed the party with Gohan and Chi-Chi."

"Why are you telling me such nonsense? That is irrelevant to me."

Bulma giggled. "I still wish you'd been there, even if you hid in the corner."

He snatched his right arm back. "Where are you dragging me?"

"To the back yard. I constructed a new gravity chamber. There are still a few add-ons and tweaks to do, but it is usable." She smiled with accomplishment.

Vegeta glanced away. He didn't know why he couldn't meet her in the eyes while he spoke. "I no longer need it. I've decided to train in space. I'll be needing a ship."

There was a long span of silence. He looked over to find her lips in a firm thin line. He knew she wasn't happy but she showed no anger or threat of tears. She took in a breath.

"I just got done with the gravity chamber. I worked long and hard on it for you, so you could at least try it out. Maybe take your son in it for a brief spar," she said.

A vein in his forehead throbbed. "I will not be beaten by my own son!"

Bulma took a step back and examined him curiously. "Are you running away because Trunks is stronger than you?"

Perceptive wench. "You aren't my damned therapist! Just build me a space ship or I will-"

Bulma stepped up into his face. "Or what? I'm not scared of you. Remember that talk we had? If you want something you have to play nice."

She was much too close and her breasts brushed against his chest through thin spandex. Her body seeped out warmth. He took hold of both her wrists and squeezed. She gave out a tiny whimper and then composed herself. The light was low and the colors of a pink and orange sunset made her features glow. It was true that her face had a few more edges and creases, but she still possessed a fiery spirit that he felt oddly attracted to. She was still beautiful.

"We never _talked_," he said. "You gave me demands that I heard. I could kill you where you stand. Now build me a ship." He gave her a little shake.

Bulma narrowed her eyes. "I've faced the destruction of my planet, buddy, death threats don't exactly work on me," she said, brushing it off. "Plus, I don't believe you. Maybe you can fool yourself, but I've felt the real you, Vegeta."

"What are you talking about?"

There was so much strength and courage in her expression. Where had she become so Saiyan-like in nature? Had facing the androids changed her so, or had she always had this hidden deep down?

She attempted to free her wrists but he held tight. She met his gaze straight on, face softening. "Vegeta, maybe I'm crazy, but I sensed you where you died. It was like your soul passed through me. I thought at the time maybe I sensed you because of some sort of bond. You felt not as evil as you make yourself out to be. I think deep down you actually care."

The words unnerved him but he fought to keep it inside. "I don't know what you are talking about. If you are implying I was some sort of ghost and visited you because of some connection, then you are going to be disappointed. I am asking you for a space ship to leave. I desire to go my separate way. That proves that I have no attachment to you or this planet."

Emotions played below the surface. Vegeta hoped the dim memory of being a spirit on Earth had been a fantasy made up by a conflicted mind. The horrors of hell were disorienting at times and some memories blurred with real events. He'd hoped that the disembodiment in the material world had been nothing but confusion and mixed up experiences in hell. He remembered a weakened and broken ghost admitting feelings that he'd never admit. A being who would choose to stay on Earth because of sentimentality and regret. No, that wasn't him. If it were true, and he'd been a ghost and fell into emotional drivel, it didn't matter anymore because he wouldn't allow himself to do so now alive.

Bulma seemed unconvinced. He let her go, trying to push her away and everything she represented.

"Fine," she said. "But you owe Trunks and me something. The other Bulma sent a space ship back with Trunks and you can use it on one condition. Take Trunks to New Namek so he can use the dragon balls to restore Earth. Then, if you want to prowl around the galaxy be my guest, I'm not your jailer."

Vegeta grumbled. He wished he could deny her but he knew she was right. He owed them. As much as he wanted to blame the women for missing her birth control pill, he knew that the pregnancy was partly his fault.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll do it, but why does the boy have to accompany me? It would be simpler to fetch the balls and wish upon them myself, and then be on my merry way."

"Because maybe I don't trust you," she said. "What would stop you from bypassing Namek? I also am not sure the Namekians will allow you to use the balls, but I'm pretty sure they'll let Trunks. There is also the possibility of him convincing them to get us a new guardian."

It all made sense but Vegeta thought Bulma really had ulterior motives. She probably wanted him to bond with his son and then decide to return. That wasn't going to happen. He'd do this last one thing for them but then he was through. He'd made up his mind. He would travel the universe in search of a new road to power. Earth's path had led him to nothing but a deadend.

AN- The next chapter probably won't take that long this time. I'm pretty excited to write it because it crosses over with Twice Upon a Time.


	7. Chapter 7

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

**Chapter 7**

There is an old quote that says, 'If you love someone, set them free. If they come back, they're yours; if they don't they never were.' It was a hard philosophy to follow, but Bulma knew that forcing Vegeta to be with her was not showing unconditional love. She had to have the courage to offer freedom and hold onto the faith that deep down what she felt while collecting time machine parts, as she came in contact with Vegeta's bodiless ghost energy, was real and still existed beneath his thick skin and hard head. The experience, the warmth and knowing of him, couldn't have been her imagination. No, she would believe that some part of him, when stripped of many protective layers, wanted to be with her in return.

She kept her head high as she packed for the journey. A mother always worried and fussed over her child's well-being. Whenever Trunks traveled, Bulma collected gear, necessities, and food. It was a habit she picked up from her own mother, who had constantly made sure she had everything.

The impending trip filled Trunks with outward eagerness, especially after their little chat a week ago about not giving up on his father. He would follow the plan to recruit his father into their family. She could detect a glimmer of doubt in his eyes but he covered it up nicely with a bright smile. She wondered if seeing his father as a caring individual in the other timeline actually caused this uncertainty because of the great contrast between the two Vegetas. Bulma understood how that might be possible, but the mere fact that the decent Vegeta existed enforced that this one's change was possible.

She found Trunks in his room, stuffing clothing into a duffel bag. She stood against the doorframe and frowned. The bed was unmade and there was a dirty towel on the floor.

"I expect you to clean this room when you come back, young man!"

Trunks jumped. He turned and smiled. "Even better, I'll tidy it up before I leave."

Bulma grinned back. She held out two capsules. "I packed you a few things. The one with the blue plunger has a first aid kit, some tools, a rope, an instruction manual for repairs, and some other odds and ends. The one with the red plunger holds some food, snacks, and soda."

Her son tucked the two capsules away in the black duffel bag and then gave her a one-armed hug. She pulled him into a real embrace, trying not to worry about what might happen to him in the days to come.

"Thanks, Mom. I'll keep the blue one on me at all times."

"You better," she said, pulling away.

A few hours later Bulma watched her men take off into the grand unknown. Vegeta avoided her eyes and if she didn't know better she would have almost thought he seemed ashamed at leaving. Trunks waved and headed into the rounded metal vehicle with four feet. As the ship became nothing more than a dot in the mostly cloudy sky, Bulma shielded her eyes and managed not to cry.

For a split second, just one, she feared that she wouldn't see either one of them again. But of course she would. Trunks returned from the future after she hung onto hope, and so she would do so now.

A wind blew past her and she felt small and alone. What would she do for the next few weeks all by herself? She could visit Chi-Chi, Gohan, Krillin, Yamcha, and even Piccolo. That was fine and dandy but she needed a project, something to keep her mind occupied. She would be glad when this space extravaganza was done and she had Capsule Corp back to fill the void.

Bulma traveled inside and down to the lab. Now that she'd built the time machine and gravity chamber there wasn't anything much to focus on. Sure, she could do a few more tweaks to the gravity room but that didn't seem appealing at the moment. She needed something uplifting and inspiring, something to give her motivation.

Hmm. . . Her eyes landed on the metal box that held her capsules. There was something she could think of to occupy herself. She'd built the time machine for a purpose and that mission had been fulfilled, but that didn't mean she couldn't take it for a spin, right? Why not? It wasn't like she was going to misuse its power, just fill her curiosity a bit.

Trunks' story wouldn't leave her mind. She couldn't stop thinking about how there was a Vegeta out there who actually cared and wanted a family. The look on his face when he spoke about the Vegeta he called Dad was full of love and pride. There was a way to see this miracle for herself. It would help, she thought, to know it for herself because it would reinforce that Vegeta was a good man deep down. If she worked hard enough and never gave up, eventually he would come around. Yes, going to the other dimension could only add to her confidence.

Seeing a Vegeta with another her, happy, might cause a twinge of jealousy, but she wouldn't let that stand in her way. She would turn it into hope for what lay in her own future.

It was settled. She would take a trip to the past and witness this phenomenon Trunks spoke of. A Vegeta who came from the future into a past body. . . It was such a weird concept. The scientist in her wanted to see the evidence to support it.

So, Bulma packed her own emergency capsule similar to the one she gave Trunks. She left a note just in case something prevented her from returning, but assured herself that she would be back way before Trunks and Vegeta were.

Bulma climbed into the cockpit and settled herself down in the driver's seat. She brushed her fingers over the buttons and nobs, feeling that sense of accomplishment that any inventor got when seeing their creation come to life. She took in a breath and set the coordinates to a time period not long after Trunks left. She braced herself for the dimensional shift and pressed the engage button. The room dissolved around her and a sense of disorientation and lightheadedness washed over her. She held onto the sides of the time machine and sucked in air. Ugh, her stomach was queasy. She swallowed and closed her eyes for a moment before forcing herself to move.

It was night and Bulma heard fireworks boom in the background. A festival must be going on or something. It was comforting to know that life continued on here like normal and people rejoiced. She got out of the time machine and pulled it back into its capsule container. The air smelled crisp and clean and the stars twinkled dimly overhead, slightly washed out by the city lights.

She made it to the doorstep before she faltered. She ran a hand through her locks. Why hadn't she thought to put makeup on and fix her hair? She remembered that this Vegeta must be used to the older version of herself, being from the future, and that gave her a smidgeon of comfort.

Come on, she told herself, just ring the doorbell. Before she was able, the door opened and she stopped breathing and thinking altogether. There, stood Vegeta in a dark t-shirt and jeans, a very human outfit. He must have sensed her ki before she had time to press the doorbell. He looked at her with shock and then something akin to sorrow. The fact that his emotions were so visual was surprising.

Another firework thundered and a cry split her eardrum. It was then that Bulma fully comprehended the baby with lavender hair that he held. The hold wasn't the close and soft one a mother gave, but he held him with a full arm just the same, even supporting the head.

"Bulma," Vegeta said past the wail and firework.

"You're holding Trunks," she said, pointing out the obvious.

He rolled his eyes and shoved the kid over to her. Bulma scrambled to take baby Trunks, something she hadn't done in years. She tenderly snuggled the baby and shushed him. He soon quieted to only a few whimpers.

"I've been trying to get him to stop for over an hour. Damn fireworks. Humans and their inconsiderate racket."

Vegeta would always be Vegeta. His words were haughty but she could see the change in him just the same. His voice wasn't as rough as she remembered. He didn't have the weight of darkness around him, as if he'd shed the pounds of his horrific past and moved on. Still, there was something not right in his eyes. They were weary and distant.

They stepped into the Capsule Corp living quarters and she glanced around at the familiar atmosphere. This was home, not some secluded tiny house where she slept and ate. Bulma swallowed and took in a framed photograph on the wall of a much younger her holding the infant Trunks with a grumpy Vegeta at their side. This other Bulma was very happy. She couldn't help but lift her fingers to touch the glass. When she turned around she found Vegeta's back and she detected his muscles slightly shake beneath the cotton shirt he wore. She hugged Trunks close and moved hesitantly to put her hand gently on his shoulder blade in comfort. Just before she made contact he recoiled.

"Don't!" he snapped.

What in the world was going on here? Her heart ached from the perceived waves of sorrow coming off both Vegeta and Trunks.

"Why are you here?" Vegeta asked softly.

"I- I wanted to speak with you. Trunks told me what you did for us. Thank you. My Vegeta isn't so receptive to family life but I bet he'll come around. He is you, after all, right? Any words of wisdom to get him to stay with us?" She tried to keep her tone light but it was hard.

"Look, Bulma, now isn't a good time, and I'm not in any condition to give advice on your love life," he said, still turned away.

That was it, she had to know what was going on. "Where am I? The other me? Did something happen?"

With that, Vegeta spun around, eyes ablaze, awakened. "You died!" He stomped over and gripped her bicep. "I can't take you being here right now! To have you here and not be _her_. Woman, do you understand how hard it is to talk to you and then let you go, leaving me here alone?"

Probably harder than it was to let my Vegeta leave, she thought. Her eyes stung and she blinked.

Vegeta breathed in and released her. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sorry."

She wanted to touch him but she held back, instead cuddling Trunks. "I'm sorry too. I can leave. Of course, I wasn't expecting this when I came. Can-Can you bring me back with the dragon balls?"

He nodded. "In a few months."

This wasn't at all what she anticipated to find. From Trunks' story she'd envisioned a happily ever after where Vegeta and she settled down with Trunks for a peaceful life. She'd come for a mood boost but here she was finding nothing but the same gloom as the period she'd just left.

Vegeta composed himself. "Why don't you stay for awhile? For Trunks," he said, gesturing to the baby.

So, she did. She fed Trunks a warmed bottle of formula. Then, she rocked and hummed to him until he fell asleep. She settled him down in his crib and watched over him for a few moments, holding the railing. The baby didn't know the difference between her and his real mother. They probably even smelled the same. She hoped he wouldn't think she abandoned him. She reached out and rubbed Trunks' chubby cheek. A sense of nostalgia and longing swept over her. She'd never have another child. All she could hope for was that Trunks would someday offer her a grandbaby.

Bulma found Vegeta in the hallway leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring blankly ahead.

"Thanks for taking care of the brat," he said dryly.

"It was nice," she said.

"It's actually probably good you stopped by. We have a situation. Some psycho Gero wanna-be is targeting Trunks and I don't know which one he's after. He's got a grudge against us for killing his invention. Just a heads up so you can warn your son to keep his guard up."

She flinched. "Trunks is in space right now," she said.

Vegeta considered that. "Good. Hedoro probably won't find him out there. But you . . . He might come after you like he did here."

Bulma hugged her arms. "I'll go to the lookout," she said. "Or, Chi-Chi and Gohan's."

He nodded. There was an awkward silence. He averted his gaze.

"About your Vegeta. . ." he began. She perked up, intrigued. "It wasn't that I didn't care back then. . . when I was like your Vegeta. I just didn't allow myself to care. There's a difference. I don't know if I can explain it in a way you could understand but Saiyans were raised as warriors. We had children out of duty to uphold our race, not to love them. We chose women that would conceive these children and keep them safe until they were old enough to take care of themselves. Everything was done for the purpose of maintaining power and honor and gaining more of this power and honor. Soft feelings were not spoken of or acted upon. So, even if I cared, I wouldn't allow myself to let that get in the way of duty and honor. I am the Prince of all Saiyans, my mission was to get stronger so I could prove that the Saiyans didn't die out because we were weak. It wasn't until . . . Look, I didn't start giving into Earth life until I noticed that my efforts weren't getting me anywhere. Kakarot's brat beat Cell instead of me. Your son was shot down before my eyes and there was nothing I could do. I realized that I was not the Saiyan warrior I strived to be, and so I gave up. What I put forth, all my effort, was not enough. The only thing I had to turn to was my family. I had a son who could possibly display Saiyan power better than me so I trained him." He paused. "There's a bunch of stuff that happened after that, and I'd rather not give you the details. Anyway, the other me will have to come to this same conclusion for him to put energy into anything else besides his will to surpass everyone else and prove Saiyan, no, royal Saiyan worth."

Vegeta had never been the type of person to open up. She gave him a small smile. "So, hang in there?"

He frowned. "I'm not going to give you any guarantees. Your world is different than mine with a different set of experiences. But you and Trunks are still Bulma and Trunks and well. . . If I had to guess, I'd say yes. I'm bound to stay eventually."

Bulma lifted her chin. "I believe in you."

He look away, maybe embarrassed and uncomfortable. "You're not old and sagging, by the way."

"Huh?" Bulma blinked. Where did that come from?

"Never mind," he grumbled.

She smiled again. "Did he call me that? Trunks said something about the other Vegeta calling me old." She shrugged. "Oh well. I am getting along in years. I'll never be the firm and pretty woman I was on Namek."

"You are always beautiful," Vegeta said.

"What?"

"Don't make me say it twice, woman! You heard me." She thought she saw a bit of pink on his averted face.

"Oh, Vegeta, honey," she gushed, folding her hands up to her chest. "I think I'm falling more in love with you by the second."

"Hmph, do you have to make a big deal about everything? You are the most annoying female on this planet besides Kakarot's harpy."

She batted her eyelids. "But the most beautiful apparently," she said and laughed.

He did not find it amusing but yet again his wife just died. She fidgeted, wondering if it was time to go. She said as much and was about to head down the hall when he grabbed her wrist. He quickly let go.

"There's a device in the lab that the maniac left. Your father has been tinkering with it for days but can't make much sense of how it works to fix it," Vegeta said.

Bulma felt her wrist. His fingers had been so warm.

"You want me to take a look at it? Sure, I've got nothing more important to do," she said.

She allowed him to lead her through the house. They passed a room with the door open and she peeked in. It was a large room with a king-sized bed and adjoined bathroom and balcony. She knew immediately that it was the room Vegeta and this Bulma shared. The cream colored bedspread was tucked neatly over the mattress and pillow, which meant that no one had slept in it since this Bulma's death. She pointed her vision in front to the back of Vegeta's head, her heart going out to him.

The smashed white bracelet awaited her and Bulma was thankful to busy her mind. She fixated herself on the microscopic gismos inside the face of the bracelet. It was obviously of alien or future origin. Fascinating . . . This piece obviously affected this one, and if you fit this one together with this one then this one . . .

It was nice to have a project and escape thoughts of Vegeta altogether. If she allowed herself to concentrate on the Saiyan man that stood next to her, she just might be urged to stay forever.

AN- I hope hacking this out isn't making the quality lack. Let me know if I should try harder. Also, Vegeta's POV of this will be written for Twice Upon a Time.


	8. Chapter 8

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

**Chapter 8**

Maybe when all this was over Vegeta would conquer a planet and take over as ruler, becoming the king he was always meant to be. There were so many insignificant balls of dirt similar to Earth out there, but he wouldn't target any of those. No, he'd strive higher than that. Someplace worthy of his rule. Miles and miles away from his memories, on the other side of the galaxy. He'd create a harem of women, and they'd respect him enough to obey, but despise him enough not to grow attached. And he'd forget all about the woman and boy.

Earth grew distant and it would have been easy to turn away and plan this future, except the boy's presence was strong. Trunks gazed out at the stars, transfixed and somewhat amazed. Once upon a time the vastness of space overwhelmed Vegeta but it passed, and eventually it would with Trunks as well, given he spent enough time gazing out at the same dots and blackness.

"I didn't get a chance to see the stars when I went to Namek. Goku used instant transmission," Trunks said. He had a stupid giddy expression that resembled his mother too much.

Vegeta leaned back in the pilot seat and huffed, crossing his arms. "If that is all it takes to entertain you, be my guest. Just keep to yourself."

Vegeta punched in coordinates for their route. He set it for no stops and the most efficient speed. He sensed Trunks move to hover over his shoulder and he turned to glare. He could tell the youth wanted to comment, but was reluctant to speak.

"What is your problem? If you have something to say spit it out!"

Hesitating, Trunks opened his mouth, not meeting his eyes. "Well, there is a better route, that's all."

That caused Vegeta's finger to freeze. "How the hell would you know?"

Trunks moved in and pointed to a diagram on the small screen. "There are three possible routes, and this one is the better of the other two. See, it bypasses a lot of planetary bodies and so we wouldn't have to worry about gravity slowing us down. Plus, look at the anticipated light pressure and solar wind. If we want to make best time this is the one to choose." He shrugged. "Mom taught me a thing or two just in case."

Vegeta shoved his son's intrusive arm aside and out of the way. He saw it now, but only because Trunks pointed it out. Damn woman and her brain. She had to go and make her son smarter than him as well. It wasn't enough that he overpowered him. He couldn't help that Freeza's pods had done all the work while he slept, and so he didn't have to know such things.

"I knew that! I was just checking things out!" Vegeta barked.

The look Trunks shot him showed that he was very skeptical. Vegeta turned away. He punched in the final selection and let the computer take over from there.

"Whatever," Vegeta grumbled. "You can man the ship if you think you know best. Just keep out of my way."

Trunks played with the panel a bit. Pictures, words, and numbers popped onto the small screen like flipping through television channels. "Hey, Father, can we stop here? There is a space station for tourists just 108,208,930 kilometers away."

"This isn't a pleasure cruise!" Vegeta snapped.

Disappointed, Trunks stepped back. He pushed a button and the screen went black. "Okay. I've just never been in space before."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Then stop acting like a child who begs for fun. Did the past fill you with frivolous nonsence? Buck up and focus on what is more important. Don't you want your puny world rebuilt to its former miniscule glory?"

For a split second Vegeta was tempted to stop at an alien tavern just before New Namek. It was a lively place with alcohol, criminals, and underground activity. Earth had drinking laws but there were none in deep space. The tavern was the perfect place to introduce a boy to naked women and buzz him up- make a man out of him. It sure would be amusing to shock the kid a bit. The idea soon died. What did he care whether the boy was weak-minded and inexperienced? He was his father only by blood. It wasn't his responsibility to educate him on adult ways. He'd already missed out on the younger years where it mattered, when he could have given him a proper Saiyan foundation.

A few hours later, Trunks uncapsulated an entire fridge and a cardboard box of snacks. Vegeta glanced over, a little intrigued. A Saiyan always found interest when food was involved. Trunks opened the fridge and rummaged through cans of soda. He selected a brown can of Root Beer.

"Want anything? Mom packed orange, Dr. Pepper, and cola too," Trunks said.

Vegeta grunted and held out his hand. "Just give me one."

His son passed over a can of Dr. Pepper. Vegeta took it and flipped the tab. He took in a long sip of the intense flavor. He slammed the aluminum can down into a plastic cupholder near the pilot's chair.

Soon, Trunks rustled a plastic bag and then popped it open. He crunched loudly on thin orange pieces. Vegeta had never seen this type of food before.

"What the hell are those?" Vegeta demanded.

Trunks held out the medium bag. "Cheetos. You've never had one?"

"No, I've never had one."

"Try one. They're cheesy."

He removed his white gloves. Then, he reached out to take a Cheeto. The orange powder was too messy for his liking but the snack tasted satisfactory.

"What do you think?" Trunks asked.

He frowned at Trunks' orange teeth as he spoke. He was about to tell the boy to brush his teeth afterward but decided not to. What did he care? "It's descent," Vegeta said.

Vegeta looked in the selection of snacks. He found a small bag that seemed appealing. They were called Otsumami and were green pretzels. The deep hearty taste made him wish for a beer.

The two Saiyans ate their bag of snacks and then went for actual food: white rice and chicken legs. Trunks smacked as he chewed off the chicken bone.

"This sure is good," Trunks said as he swallowed.

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "Don't you ever stop talking? You're as bad as that woman who gave birth to you. Just nourish yourself and leave me in peace."

That shut the kid up. Vegeta scooped heaps of rice into his mouth with chopsticks until he had consumed four bowls. He left the eatware and trash for the brat to clean up. He walked over to the gravity machine and turned it to 500 G. It had been too long since he properly exercised. His body ached a little from the strain. Vegeta warmed up with some squats and lunges.

About an hour into training, Trunks watched him from the side. "What?" Vegeta demanded, sweaty and breathing heavily.

Trunks shyly glanced down. "I could show you a few moves."

Incredulous, Vegeta halted his tuck-jumps. There was no way he was going to let his son teach him moves. It was disgraceful. He gritted his teeth at the thought. "I don't need anyone's help."

Trunks looked darkly in his direction, clearly getting sick of Vegeta's sour mood. "I learned from you so it is almost like teaching yourself."

Vegeta clenched his fists. "You mean that softened Earthling-wannabe who isn't fit to call himself prince anymore? No thank you, I am fine on my own."

"Very well, Father," Trunks said. He walked over to the open space and proceeded to do a few katana moves with an invisible sword. Vegeta noticed how easily he moved and did not sweat as he did.

"Don't you know anything about personal space? Get over there where I don't have to worry about bumping into you," Vegeta said.

Once Trunks went to the other side of the gravity apparatus, Vegeta went to it and boosted up the Gs. There was no way he was going to allow his son to get off easy. He pushed himself even though it was harder. Awhile later he peeked over at Trunks. The young man practiced some high intense strength training exercise. The brat's purple bangs fell into his eyes and it must have blinded him. What a ridiculous hairstyle. It was practically a hazard in battle. Vegeta growled under his breath as Trunks held himself up with one hand and then had the audacity to reduce it to only his thumb.

No way! First Kakarot showed him up and now his own son! There had to be a breaking point for the kid. If he found it and then pressed himself further enough, for he surely had more will than Trunks, he could become strongest.

Vegeta turned the gravity machine to 750 Gs. Surely that would break Trunks. The pressure pulled on Vegeta's body. His leg muscles shook, unsteady. Trunks came around from the corner. His mouth opened, taking in the situation.

"Are you sure you can handle this, Father?"

The damn kid walked just fine at 750 Gs. Blasted all!

Trunks took a step in his direction. "Don't you dare come near me!" Vegeta snapped.

"But . . . Father, you can hardly stand."

This couldn't be happening. He was a Saiyan, the legendary Super Saiyan, and his own son had become Super Saiyan II. His own son had surpassed him at an age before he even become Super Saiyan I. All because he trained with a man by the same name in another timeline who thought Earth was a splendid place to settle down and call home. Vegeta found himself questioning what really made strength. Kakarot became stronger too, casting aside Saiyan pride and thinking Earth was a jolly fun planet. If it wasn't Saiyan willpower and pride, what caused someone to make a significant breakthrough? What caused someone to surpass others?

"Stay put!" Vegeta yelled when Trunks took another step.

Vegeta hollered. His body trembled and sweat rolled down his bulging muscles to land on the floor. He called to his Saiyan ancestors for power, for wisdom to overcome the limits. He became Super Saiyan, gathering his energy. The yellowish aura pulsated around him wildly and he lifted his head, eyes bulging, bloodshot. If he tried enough, strained enough, he could ascend. He thought he heard a crack, maybe a wall or even a device shattering.

"Father!"

That was when he gave out. The transformation ceased, leaving him black haired and a mess. His muscles turned to mush and he fell face-first with a thud. Trunks rushed over and first turned the dial on the gravity machine to normal.

"What were you trying to do?" Trunks chastised as if he were Bulma. He bent down by his father's side.

Vegeta batted him away. Even that little movement made him wince. "Keep away. I can get up." He tried to push himself up and failed. He landed back on the floor, smacking his jaw.

He felt smooth hands lift him up to his feet. Vegeta struggled, but Trunks had a firm grip.

"Come on, Father, you have to let me help you lay down," Trunks said.

Finally, Vegeta gave in and let the boy support him. He shuffled his feet, leaning on his taller son so he wouldn't collapse. They made it to the other side of the ship and Trunks pushed a button and the bed folded out. Trunks helped Vegeta to rest upon the white sheets. Soon, Vegeta lost the battle for consciousness and fell asleep.

Vegeta awoke to the sound of a siren. His eyes squinted before they adjusted to red lights.

"_Warning. Warning. Solar System bodies detected_," an electronic voice announced.

Vegeta instantly sat up. He ignored the flare in his leg muscles and shakily stood up. He grunted and leaned against the wall. "Fuck," he muttered.

Slowly, the Saiyan made it over to the controls. Trunks was already there. What seemed like millions of asteroids zoomed passed on the gigantic window above the small screen. The only thing that could have caused that many was a planet explosion. Another tyrant in the universe at it again. Just because Freeza was dead didn't mean the Planetary Trade Organization had disappeared.

Trunks took hold of the steering stick and maneuvered around the pieces of rock and debris. There were too many. The ship rumbled from turbulence. Trunks turned to Vegeta as if his father could fix things.

"Here, you take over! You've been in space," he demanded.

Vegeta blinked. "Fool. I've never controlled a ship this size. Our pods were completely on autopilot."

The news shocked Trunks and he took in a few breaths to try and remain calm. He continued to zig zag through the oncoming blasts. The space ship rocked and Vegeta had to hold onto the chair to prevent himself from being flung.

"_Warning. Warning. Engine malfunction_," the electronic voice said.

Vegeta shoved his son to the side. They needed to find the closest planet and land. He searched the computer database. Just before he came up with something, he was tossed to the left. He growled in frustration as his left shoulder smacked against the wall.

Nothing like this had ever happened to him before. The pods had been small enough to avoid large chunks of rock. They also were programed to move between moving objects on their own. If he'd encountered asteroids of such magnitude, he'd been in the deep induced slumber state.

The scent of smoke hit Vegeta's nostrils and he realized how dire the situation was. They could die. It didn't surprise him, but he felt a little let down. His third life turned out to be crack shit useless.

His brain traveled to the woman for some reason. She'd have to make it on her own. Well, at least the androids were out of the way, and she had her friends now. Something hit him in the chest, a sense of warmth that settled around his heart. He remembered a sensation like that a while ago after he died, a memory he tried to forget. A time when he'd been completely vulnerable and without a body. What was the point of pushing it away anymore?

The ship rocked and Vegeta allowed himself to tumble to the floor. Bulma and he were bonded. He admitted it. And here he was, what. . . trying to reach out to her? That whole Saiyan legend of mating with someone and sharing a mental connection was true. Which meant . . . she mattered to him. This didn't make him happy on a lot of levels, number one being that he might die and never see her again.

Why did he have to realize this now? It would have been simpler to remain in ignorance and just pass away like a warrior.

Vegeta struggled to his feet and stumbled over to Trunks. The boy was trying everything he could to somehow save them. His eyes were locked on the controls as he tested options. He appeared somewhat calm and collected. Maybe the kid showed some promise.

Vegeta smelled the smoke grow stronger and he went for the fire extinguisher. There were two things he came to a conclusion about: he wouldn't mind hearing Bulma's bitching voice one more time, and he did not want Trunks to perish on the ship.

AN- Sorry about all the cussing but it seemed appropriate


	9. Chapter 9

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

**Chapter 9**

Trunks must have bumped his head. The last thing he remembered was frantically typing in the coordinates for the closest planet, which happened to be Yardrat. He remembered Goku explaining that the Yardrats were the ones to nurse him back to health and teach him instant transmission. They were a peaceful and weak race, but also skilled in fantastic mental abilities. If they were going to crash land on a planet, this one was a good choice.

He woke to the bitter scent of smoke. He lifted his head from the dashboard and tried to open his eyes but they stung. He caught a glimpse of thick haze before squinting. It was then that he realized that the ship had stopped. Somehow, while unconscious, the ship must have landed through autopilot. Trunks coughed and gagged as he made his way through the spaceship.

"Father!" Trunks called. He groped along the wall and tried to ignore the throb on his forehead. Orange flames arose from the back of the ship, snatching out, and ready to engulf the entire vehicle. He'd seen fires made by the androids that wiped out entire blocks in the city and he shivered at the comparison. Vegeta might be lost in those flames. The thought of losing his father before he even got to know him made him press on in determined desperation. There was no way they could have this bad of luck. No way. He and his mother were good people, and even if Vegeta was in the gray area they deserved some returns. No, his father wasn't dead again, he wouldn't allow it. That would just be too unfair.

Saiyan skin was tough and could withstand bullets, but heat from all directions could burn away at even a Super Saiyan's cells if exposed long enough. Plus, if gotten into the lungs, a person could suffocate. Before venturing into the inferno, Trunks ripped off some cloth from his sleeve and created a barrier over his mouth and nose. He shifted to Super Saiyan in hope that the aura might somewhat shield from the heat. He could hardly see and his body wanted to sag. Still, he kept going. He heard a creak of metal and then a snap. The flames obviously were coming from the engine room, but he was reluctant to go in. It seemed to be nothing but fire, an entire room of fire. Was his father in there? Should he attempt it?

The image of his mother in his mind gave him the courage to step forward. She had faith in their family and he wouldn't take that away from her. Before he ventured into the mass of blaze, his boot hit something. Trunks crouched and discovered it was Vegeta. The man must have escaped the engine room before it became too hazardous. The young man scooped up his father like a sack of flour and trudged toward the exit.

There was no power for the door so Trunks smashed it down with one ki blast. They emerged and Trunks sputtered and coughed. He almost lost balance, but managed to get Vegeta to the ground gently before he gave out. He fell to his knees and hunched over on all fours, gasping in lung-fulls of air. At first, Trunks was worried about Vegeta's condition. The prince was covered in soot and there were burns on the side of his face, but he noticed the slight wince Vegeta gave and the suck of breath.

They couldn't stay there. The ship could blow at any moment. Trunks forced himself up and grabbed Vegeta by the arms, dragging him back and away from the chaos. Vegeta moaned something that seemed like words but couldn't be made out. When they were far enough away, Trunks stopped and dropped, legs out, leaning back on his elbows.

That was when he allowed himself to take in their surroundings. The sky was dark yellow and the ground a rocky indigo. Giant pillars of purple rock sprung up in random places. It was a weird and foreign landscape, something Trunks had never encountered, and it made him feel secluded and small.

Father and son remained there for a few hours. The sky got darker. Trunks noticed there was no moon and he could hardly see. If needed, he could create a torch with a ki blast. Vegeta became restless and muttered things in his sleep. He caught Freeza's name and surprisingly Bulma's.

Trunks rolled onto his right side and propped his head on his arm. He allowed his weary eyes to close and for sleep to take him. Rain stirred his senses and he gradually opened his eyes. The water splashed against the side of his face. The ground didn't soak up the water and he found that they were practically swimming. Trunks scrambled up and hoisted his father yet again over his shoulder and partially over his back.

The journey was slow and long. A few times Trunks had to lean against one of the rock pillars to regain his breath. The sky lightened and the rain finally ceased to a mere drizzle. Cacaws of giant featherless birds came and Trunks scrambled back when a blur of gray swooped down near them to snatch up a strange creature similar to a rabbit.

Trunks wondered what would happen if they were truly stranded there. The planet's atmosphere was far from appealing. But then again, the smashed buildings at home were yet to offer luxury. The trip to the past had run its risk of being one-way and he knew this one had been the same. No risk, no gain. He had no regrets of leaving Earth. There was still hope that their efforts would pan out.

Trunks began to stumble and he realized that he was extremely dehydrated. His foot hit a stone and father and son tumbled. Vegeta grunted and stirred. Both his hands twitched. Trunks sat up, attempting to shake off the dizziness in his head.

"You fool, where the hell are we?" Vegeta choked. His voice sounded as dry as the desert in Trunks' mouth.

Trunks scooted over. Vegeta spoke with his eyes closed. The burned flesh on his face seemed less severe now and his Saiyan healing must have kicked in. Still, neither one of them were in the best of shape. They needed rest and water.

"Father, how do you feel?"

"Fucking fantastic," Vegeta said with sarcasm. "I asked you a question. Where are we?"

Trunks smiled. His father would be just fine. "Yardrat, I think. At least, that was where I directed the ship to land."

Vegeta parted his eyes into slits. "Yardrat? So, we're on a more uncivilized planet than Earth. That's great. We'll be lucky if we find enough parts to repair the ship."

For a moment Trunks didn't know how to break the news. He paused in hesitation. "The ship is gone. We barely made it out of there before it pretty much exploded."

Vegeta did a very surprising thing- he laughed. He laughed so hard he began to cough, and when he was done he seemed very pissed off. He opened his eyes and sat up with effort. He glanced down at his charred clothes and glowered.

"There's got to be a town around here. We just have to keep moving," Trunks said.

With a huff, Vegeta said, "Yeah, if town is the right word for it. I'd call it more like a few huts in a row."

"You've been on Yardrat?" Trunks asked with interest. If his father knew about Yardrat then that could be to their advantage.

Vegeta frowned deeper. "Never, but we studied their culture. This planet was on Freeza's list for purging, but it kept getting pushed back and replaced by more advanced and prosperous worlds."

"But you know some things. What about their language?"

His father considered this. "Their language is simple. I can speak the basics."

"Great!"

Vegeta just stared. Then he turned his head as if he sensed something. Trunks followed his gaze to find a group of seven aliens walk in their directions. They were pink skinned with blue speckled heads and wrinkled foreheads. The Yardrats held chisels as if they were going to go mine in a cave. All of them had easy-going expressions that reminded Trunks of Goku. No wonder he'd fit in so well on the planet.

"Just as they were described," Vegeta whispered. "Weak, primitive, and foolish."

"But, Father," Trunks whispered back," They taught Goku instant transmission. They must be smart. If we learn instant transmission we can get out of here."

"I'll be the one to learn instant transmission," Vegeta commanded like the prince he was.

Trunks understood and nodded. He would allow his father this dignity and honor of knowing something he did not.

The next thing they knew, all seven pink Yardrats had popped in front of them. They lowered their chisels and spoke together in a chirping language. Their faces were friendly and their squinty eyes sparkled through gigantic eyelids. Somehow Trunks got the impression they could tell that they were not enemies. Could they have some sort of psychic ability?

Vegeta sighed and spoke back. His voice sounded quite humorous and Trunks couldn't help but laugh.

"What?" Vegeta snapped.

"I didn't know your voice could go that high," Trunks said.

"Oh, shut up!"

The Yardrats bobbed their heads and smiled. Then they motioned with their hands for them to follow.

"They want to treat our wounds and then take us to see their elder," Vegeta explained.

Trunks got up and offered Vegeta a hand, even though he knew he wouldn't take it. He was right, and Vegeta refused the offer, determined to walk on his own. Still, Trunks detected a lessoning in his foul mood from back on the ship.

The Yardrats escorted them to their village. As Vegeta said, it wasn't extravagant, and their houses looked like boulders pushed together with slanted roofs. Four blue skinned Yardrats that appeared female cleaned their wounds and applied anointment. Trunks' gash on his forehead was bandaged with cloth.

The elder lived at the top of a steep hill with stone steps. A few statues of animals lined the way as they rose. Trunks found it all fascinating but Vegeta moved with his arms crossed and eyes straight ahead, all business. Trunks expected to find a leader on a throne but instead their elder sat on a woven rug, eating out of baskets and clay bowls. He offered to share, which of course they did, because no Saiyan ever declined a meal. The food consisted of nuts, dried fruits, jerky, fried bread, and some pastries. Trunks found it satisfying but he worried his father would miss cooked meat. If he did, Vegeta said nothing and his face remained neutral.

The elder gazed at them both with wisdom and Trunks suspected why they selected him as chief. He was a pink skinned Yardrat, a little shorter than the rest, and pretty old. His ears were pointed to the sides, which made him look kind of cute.

"He wants permission to touch your head," Vegeta said.

Trunks blinked. "Uh, sure, but why?"

Vegeta shrugged. "How the hell should I know?" He exchanged a few words. "The elder says that this will allow him to 'see' you."

That was intriguing. Trunks leaned forward in invitation. "Okay."

The elder's hands were wrinkly and dry. He cupped them around Trunks' crown and closed his eyes in concentration. Then he hummed. A vibration came from the elder's touch and Trunks felt warm, and very calm.

When the elder stopped he smiled, pleased. He said something to Vegeta and Vegeta spoke back. Trunks wanted to know what was said but Vegeta refused to say.

"He thinks you are a 'good sorts'," was all he would offer.

Something more had been said than that. He knew by the way Vegeta had spoken. It was as if he were proud about something. He couldn't have been talking to the elder about him, could he? If so, that would have been a miracle- a true step forward.


	10. Chapter 10

**RECONSTRUCTION**

**A Future Spin-Off to Twice Upon a Time**

**By NinjaWhisper**

Summary- It all fell apart and Bulma had to manage the pieces. Alone, she raised her son in a desolate apocalyptic world. Strong-willed and brave, she accepted this fate, moving on despite hope only coming to another timeline and not her own. Then he came back. . . and they had a new task- fixing something that was never whole to begin with.

Disclaimer- Dragon Ball Z is owned by Akira Toriyama and Toei Animation

**Chapter 10**

For the most part, Bulma fell into an isolated scientific trance. Occasionally, Vegeta came down to demand on results. It was slow, but steady. The technology was far-advanced and used parts that had yet to be invented. Piece by piece, Bulma learned how the bracelet operated. The band's mechanisms seemed to be some sort of transportation device that broke down and reconstructed molecules at super speed.

On the second day, Mrs. Brief came down with a plate of meatbuns. She almost stumbled on the last step with a gasp, putting her free hand over her mouth. For a split second, her blue eyes opened to take in her older, very alive daughter from the future. Bulma, herself, froze and gaped back.

"Oh dear, Vegeta told me you were down here but I couldn't believe it," Mrs. Brief said. "Is that you, Bulma, darling?"

A tiny choked sound in-between a laugh and sob escaped Bulma. She released the small screwdriver in her fingers and it clattered onto the worktable. Bulma flung herself at her mother and the blond almost lost control of the plate in her hands. The two women held each other tight.

"Mom," Bulma said.

"My baby," Mrs. Brief said.

Bulma missed this so much. Her parents died years ago from the androids, not wanting to leave their home and seek shelter. Her mother had never been the sharpest mind, but she was supportive, caring, and had a way of making everyone feel wanted. Her mother took care of everyone and spoiled them rotten. Bulma made a note to venture upstairs and visit her father. He'd been a different figure in her life. Smart, he gave advice, and pushed her to meet her goals. She could use a little encouragement these days.

Mrs. Brief stepped back and held out the steaming meat buns. They smelled good and were cooked to the perfect golden color. "You must be starving working so hard. Don't forget about your health, dear." There was a glimmer of sadness on her face but it quickly vanished. Bulma hypothesized that she was thinking about her dead biological daughter.

Bulma took the plate of meatbuns and bit into one. They were pork and the taste overwhelmed her senses, waking her up. There was nothing like her mother's cooking.

Mrs. Brief held the banister. "I'll get you something to drink. I just made a pitcher of iced tea. How long are you staying? I will make you another batch of muffins to take back with you. How about banana? Does your young Trunks like banana?" She put a hand to her cheek. "Oh, you have a Vegeta too, don't you? I better make a triple batch."

The woman went up the stairs in a tizzy, prepared to send goodie baskets galore. Bulma watched her mother's back with an empty feeling. The conversation had been very superficial. There was so much unsaid, but she knew that that was to be expected from her mother. Mrs. Brief wasn't capable of deep discussion. Sending her home with food was her way of communication, a message of love. Bulma sighed and went back to work.

On the third day, Bulma got the bracelet to light up green, but then it died. She growled in frustration and realized she hadn't slept in over 24 hours. Well, she couldn't sleep now, not when she'd made a breakthrough. Still, she needed a quick break. She stood up, her leg muscles stiff. She stretched out her arms and then did a few twists. She decided to walk around the lab to loosen up.

Bulma made her way around the lab. She stopped around her father's work station. Usually he stayed upstairs with the employees, but sometimes he required his own personal space. She spotted an open box of cigarettes and the foreign temptation to light one came over her. She touched the box but then pulled back. No. She'd given it up years ago. A gold framed photo of the proud grandparents with baby Trunks was on Dr. Brief's desk. The photo was cheery and sunny. Bulma wondered if her counterpart had been in control of the camera.

She made her way around the lab, loitering about. Three freeze chambers were positioned in the back corner. She hesitated, knowing very well what one contained. There was a slight hum from the one in activity. Curious and intrigued, she couldn't help herself from inching over. It seemed like her to build pods to preserve bodies. Otherwise, they would be resurrected in the ground or wherever they died.

Bulma gazed into the glass window of the chamber. It was foggy from the ice, so she couldn't make out the contents. Bulma turned up the temperature just enough so that she could see in. Transfixed, she met herself. The woman inside the glass was young and beautiful, skin smooth and tight. Her hands were positioned over her chest and she seemed to only be asleep. Had I really been that gorgeous? she wondered with a twinge of nostalgia. Her body had been positioned inside with tenderness, her hair not in the slightest disheveled, her clothing unwrinkled. Bulma imagined Vegeta placing her in the compartment and her chest grew heavy.

"What are you doing?" a gruff voice demanded.

Bulma's head shot to the side. Vegeta stood, jaw clenched, standing ridged.

She straightened and tucked her hair behind her ears. "N-Nothing much."

He stomped over and pushed her out of the way. He took one glance into the freezer pod before turning the temperature all the way down again. He turned, his eyes dark. "I'd appreciate it if you'd mind your own business," he said.

The way he said it was possessive, as if he were protecting his property. He couldn't possibly think she would harm the body of her other self. No, that wasn't it. The only thing she could comprehend was that he was trying to keep Present Bulma's death all to himself. As if it were his burden to manage alone. Yet again, she longed to reach out and touch him, to offer support. It took effort to maintain space between them.

"How is the bracelet coming?" Vegeta asked.

"Vegeta . . . Maybe you should talk about it. I think it might help . . ."

He frowned deeply at her in a way that said 'did you really just say that to me?'. "Like I said, woman, mind your own business. How is the bracelet coming?"

Fine, she thought. If he wanted to close himself off and handle his emotions all by himself, then that was 'his business'.

"I'm making progress. A day more or so, I'd guess," Bulma said.

He nodded. "Do you need more of that caffeine beverage you call coffee?"

"That'd be nice. With cream and sugar. Thank you."

Vegeta grunted, turned, and headed upstairs. She heard a bang of the door. Bulma sighed and then went back to the work station.

About twelve hours later, Bulma shouted, "Eureka!" She expected someone to come down but no one did. Vegeta must have stepped into the soundproof GR, and her parents' hearing was no longer the sharpest. She was alone to savor her breakthrough. The bracelet blinked green with power. The only thing left to do was test it out.

The bracelet held a program chip within it, and she hadn't messed with it. If she pressed the button, she could travel to where Hedoro came from last. It would be risky, but she could always press the button and return to safety before anything happened. The sensible thing to do would be to hand the bracelet over to Vegeta, but this was Bulma Brief, and curiosity often took over.

Bulma pressed the button.

There was a sensation similar to having the wind knocked out of you. Bulma held her chest and then gasped. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The air smelled musty with the slight scent of chemicals. She stood in a room full of metal. Everything was made of metal, and the ceiling curved in a dome. The place was obviously a lab. On a square table, were strange objects. She stepped forward and touched one that was a cube with rows of squares with symbols that looked like they turned. She was tempted to turn them, but told herself that there was no way of knowing what it might do. Bulma glanced around, and when she saw that no one was in sight, she took the cube. There were at least a dozen different things on the table, each just as captivating and foreign. Bulma wondered if they were from the future, alien, or both. She wished she had the capacity to grab them all. She settled for snatching the small circular disc, tucking it into her bra.

There were papers splayed on another table. She glanced over them and discovered that they of diagrams and numbers. Bulma's ingenious brain took it in, connecting the dots. Hedoro was planning to change himself into an android. There were random notes jotted around the plans: Dr. Gero + Hedoro = perfection, specimen A into specimen B into AB, Frankenstein was onto something. She furrowed her brow.

Rational told her to leave, but Bulma's eyes shifted to the open door across the room. It couldn't hurt to take a peek. Cautiously and quietly, Bulma walked into another room. This one hummed with electricity. Wires and hoses ran up to the ceiling. There were tanks of fluid and giant computers. A screen flashed binary code on the left wall. She took it all in with awe. She saw an upward pod along the right wall and judged from the size that it was for a person. She approached it and heard a hissing noise from it. She swallowed and looked into the glass lid.

Bulma's mouth fell open. Inside was Dr. Gero . . . No . . . A deformed Gero. The face was made of pieces of Gero, as if stitched together with other features. Things began to dawn. This Hedoro was taking on a Frankenstein approach by using himself to make a unique creature that used Dr. Gero's body parts mixed with his own. The creature stirred, its eyes fluttering open.

Bulma shrieked. She backed away, her side hitting a rack of test tubes. The rack rattled and then fell. Glass shattered and went flying. She hissed and covered her eyes. Her elbow stung as she felt a shard imbed in her skin. The cube slipped from her clutch. She scrambled down to retrieve it. Her hand snatched out to take it again, not caring that it landed in a pile of glass. She sucked in a breath as she felt tiny glass pieces take root in her palm.

The pod door released. Bulma stood, scrambling backwards. She fiddled with the bracelet on her right wrist. Nothing happened. No. . . It took her a few seconds to comprehend what was happening. So stupid . . . She turned and ran toward the other room.

When Bulma made it into the first room, she slammed the heavy door shut. She pressed the button again. Nothing. Her body shook and she cried like the young teenager who used to panic over every dangerous encounter. Back in those days she would have blamed this on someone else, but now she faced the truth. This was all her fault.

Would she get the chance to see Trunks again? To be there when he wished Earth back to its proper state. Would she live to find out if her Vegeta returned?

Footsteps neared and then stopped on the other side of the door. "Mrs. Brief, aren't you supposed to be dead?" a heavy voice said.

Desperate, Bulma jiggled the bracelet. The green light flashed and then went dead again. Come on! The door forced open. Bulma flung herself away. She shook her wrist, ignoring the pain. The bracelet flashed and Bulma pressed the button.

Swoosh. Bulma arrived back at Capsule Corp. in the laboratory basement. She sucked in air, recovering from the ordeal. She laid down her technological prizes, the cube and disc, very proud of herself. It'd been a long time since she'd seen any action, sending Trunks off by himself. It was weirdly invigorating and yet still frightening. Bulma laughed with tears in her eyes.

Just then, the basement door crashed open and heavy fast footsteps came down the stairs. A grumpy prince emerged, wearing training clothing, hair slightly mussed. He took in the sight of her, his features growing darker.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded.

She clutched her right palm. "I- Well- The bracelet worked."

Vegeta narrowed his eyes. "You tried it out? Are you out of your fucking gourd!"

She laughed. "It is a transportation device like we thought. It breaks down molecules, speeds them up, and then reconstructs them in another place. Like Star Trek. You know, beam me up Scotty."

He did not comprehend her amusement. "Star what? Woman, are you trying to tell me this is nothing more than what that Kakarot can do with instant transmission?"

She shrugged. "Oh, when you put it that way it isn't so fun."

He pushed her into the wall, leaning in close. "None of this should be fun for either one of us. Do you ever stop to think about anyone else besides yourself? You are as bad as your double."

Bulma sobered. "I had to try it out to make sure I fixed it. And I did." She paused, not wanting to admit how close she was to not returning. "I'll need to do a few more tweaks but then she's yours to show Hedoro who is boss." She glanced away. "Just be careful, okay?"

"Quite the hypocrite," he said. He looked down and noticed the blood running down her arm. His jaw clenched. He pulled back. "Come with me."

Vegeta led her upstairs to the medical wing. He ordered her to take a seat and he opened a cabinet to retrieve some bandages and disinfectant. His fingers flexed her arm and used a pair of tweezers to disengage the shards of glass. They remained silent and she grew nervous as the time ticked away. He didn't ask her what happened, but she knew he could guess.

With tenderness she never knew he possessed, he applied disinfectant and then wrapped her elbow and hand. Bulma watched his fingers brush against her skin until he made the last touches. She caught his eyes just before he turned away and electricity sparked between them. They both froze, locking onto each other.

Bulma felt the room sway. The onyx eyes swallowed her in and she sensed their depths consume her. It was like the ghost incident all over, but this time he was real, here, and she could touch him. She reached out with her good hand and ran three fingers lightly down his cheek. He caught them with a warning glare.

"I won't deny that we have a bond, Bulma, and that is why you must leave _now_," he said.

Dizzily, she nodded. He dropped her hand and she shivered from the loss of warmth. Her heart pounded and she leaned heavily back in the chair, trying to focus anywhere but on him.

"Go home where it is safer. Where you belong."

She nodded again, tears forming. She knew she didn't belong here, but this Vegeta seemed so approachable. When they'd connected through the bond, she felt like she could fold herself into his soul and he'd let her in without a fight. It was unlike her Vegeta that kept himself barred with a key.

Vegeta walked away, leaving her to clean up the first-aid supplies. She hung her head for a moment. It was time to return to her own time, she supposed, because the more she stayed her the more dangerous it became.

A pang of remorse ran over her. She'd made it worse on this Vegeta. It may have been better for him if she'd never came. To her, though, she didn't regret it. This Vegeta was very worth seeing. Where her Vegeta was cold and vacant, this Vegeta was emotional, yet still rude and volatile. Bulma wished she could have witnessed him and herself in a brighter environment.

If anything, Bulma was an adventurer at her core. The scheming mind of a scientist, that sometimes bordered on mad, sprang to life. She still had a time machine and she could travel to whatever year she chose. If she wanted to see a happier time, all she had to do was set it for a better future. Yes, Bulma, thought. I believe in a better future, one in which this Bulma and Vegeta are happy.

For some reason, if she witnessed this improved future, she could more believe in one for herself.

AN- More time traveling in the next chapter. Fun!


End file.
